


To Rule Alone, To Build Together

by Darthkvzn



Series: There Was Once An Avenger From Krypton [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: (thank goodness for the Miraculous Cure), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Blood and Injury, Chloé Bourgeois Redemption, Chloé Bourgeois-centric, Depression, F/F, F/M, Gay Panic, Lesbian Chloé Bourgeois, M/M, Mild Blood, Miraculous Holder Chloé Bourgeois, Panic Attacks, Social Anxiety, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2020-10-12 07:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 41,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20560838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darthkvzn/pseuds/Darthkvzn
Summary: Chloé Bourgeois is not a good person.She is, in fact, so not good a person, that she's partially responsible for the near destruction of Paris - a deadly consequence of her habitually horrific treatment of pretty much everyone around her. If not for Ladybug's intervention, she'd have caused her own death - and she's not sure anyone would've remembered her fondly.Why, then, has a tiny goddess chosen to bestow power akin to Paris's defenders upon her?(a reimagining of Miraculous Ladybug, centered on Chloé Bourgeois, featuring actual character development! Waaay AU, set in an MCU based universe, but not necessarily crossing over aside from fun references, at least for now)





	1. Fallout

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I've ever written a bully as a protagonist before. Can't really relate to people who actively choose to antagonize others and derive enjoyment from it. Indeed, you may or may not feel like Chloé's arc here picks up a bit too quickly. I think it makes sense, but then I'm not exactly objective here.
> 
> As mentioned in the summary, this is extremely AU. I call this a "Fu-less AU" of sorts - he's alive and well, but the way the Miraculous jewels and the Kwamis work is very different. He doesn't hand them out, or keep them. He's more of a lore guy. Moreover, the world around our heroes actually reacts to their actions - even if Ladybug can restore everything and everyone, people can be seriously hurt, even die from Hawk Moth's minions' actions. Some powers and weapons are changed around - especially Chloé's as you'll quickly notice. Relationships, both romantic and platonic, are altered, too. I hope you guys enjoy these modifications!
> 
> This fic takes place in the same universe as Changing of the Guard and Close Encounters of the Gem Kind (and The Girl Who Could Knock Out the Hulk, but I've yet to publish that one here). However, it's meant as its own, standalone story for the time being. Aside from a few references, it might as well be in its own world. I just want the crossover potential for later, y'know? I hope it's not a dealbreaker!

Chloé Bourgeois is  _ not _ a good person.

Forget about kind, or even _superficially_ _nice_. Chloé is a spoiled brat at best, an unbearable nuisance more often than not, and a vindictive _bitch_ at worst. All of this is, of course, by design. No one is a jerk by nature, and Chloé is no exception.

She could fill a book with the reasons behind her rather heinous attitude; a mother more interested in the latest fashion trends than remembering the name of her own daughter, a father-turned-corrupt politician who’d rather give her daughter a blank check than actually  _ check up _ on her, a best friend who was forced to sever ties with her as a result of his cold, tyrannical father...

Etcetera, etcetera.

The point is, Chloé is the kind of person whom one – in a morally dubious way, perhaps – might argue  _ deserves _ to perish at the hands of the  _ literal monster _ she’s caused. She’s not stupid; she knows there’s a cause and effect thing going on between her admittedly horrid treatment of Ivan, and the stone creature he’s become, at least this time around. Bullshit magic transformation notwithstanding,  _ she’s _ the reason he’s a fifty foot tall golem clinging to the side of the Eiffel Tower, inches away from crushing her to death.

_ Yeah, yeah _ , Mylene is there too, but at least the brute inside the monster, like,  _ cares _ about her. Ivan –or Stoneheart, as the media has  _ stupidly _ taken to calling him already – isn’t about to squish the girl he has a crush on.

Chloé has no such guarantees. Unless that ladybug-themed heroine that appeared out of nowhere a day prior comes up with the  _ mother _ of all rescue plans, Chloé is _ going to die _ .

She’s not even gonna get to come out of the goddamn closet.

In fact, before she knows it, she’s falling. It’s  _ kind _ of an improvement, she sourly thinks as gravity begins to take its hold on her unfortunately rather fragile body, since she’s no longer in danger of being crushed to death by a giant stone fist, or  _ actively _ getting scraped all over by the world’s angriest lump of pumice, but she  _ knows  _ the reprieve won’t last long.

There’s no rush of memories, no ‘life flashing before her eyes’. Just a moment of clarity, of _regret_, of _absolute_ _fear_ that, yep, this is _it_ for Chloé Bourgeois. Fifteen years old and the only mark she’ll have left on the world is a rather _messy_ one, beneath the looming form of Paris’ greatest landmark.

Will it hurt? (Of course it will)

Will she die? (There is  _ literally _ no way she survives this fall)

Will anyone remember her fondly? (... _ fuck _ . No, probably not)

She braces for impact...and feels it, but  _ way _ softer than she anticipated. She’s also...not stopped moving, which is  _ trippy _ for someone who expected a rather abrupt  _ stop _ , but makes a lot of sense once she opens her eyes and sees the nervous-yet-determined expression of the insect-themed heroine, swooping in and saving her goddamn life like she’s sprung out of the pages of one of Adrien’s old manga issues. She glances back at Chloé as they approach the ground, bluebell eyes meeting frigid, icy ones, and all the blonde can think about is how  _ beautiful _ that unnaturally blue hair of hers is.

There’s a threat by some kind of supervillain, the spotted heroine – calls herself Ladybug, who could’ve guessed? – fires back with a speech she can barely hear, and then an absolute,  _ nuclear-level explosion _ of  _ magical ladybugs _ happens, and then everything – from the overturned police cars to the slightly bleeding scrapes on her forearms and legs – is returned to its normal, pre-monster state.

Chloe’s pretty sure she makes some kind of snappy comment at Ivan and Mylene, but she’s honestly on auto-pilot. Ladybug and her partner, Cat Noir, have vanished, the police is trying to make sense of the shockingly peaceful aftermath of what news people are calling a ‘magical terrorism threat’, and before she knows it, she’s ushered into the back of her dad’s limo.

André Bourgeois fretfully asks her if she’s okay, painfully unsure of how to speak to his own daughter -  _ fearful _ when all she can muster is an annoyed glare. He shrinks a little, turns to his phone, trying to ‘coordinate’ the city’s response – aka, yelling at his PR people to come up with  _ something _ to say about the absolute madness brought on by the guy calling himself Hawk Moth – while Chloe just...stares at her forearms.

Her very much whole, formerly bleeding forearms.

Chloé manages to dismiss her butler before he can even  _ begin _ to ask about the day’s events. She shuts herself into her room, tosses all of her clothes at her bed – no blood stains either, huh – and steps into her lavish bath. Doesn’t even wait for the water to warm up, let alone pool into the tub, before lying down inside and staring at her bathroom ceiling.

What the  _ fuck _ just happened?

Logically, she knows some madman with superpowers turned the classmate she – and Kim, but who’s counting – bullied into a monster that very, _very_ nearly killed her. The only reason she’s alive to experience this _mindfuck_ is the similarly super-powered Ladybug. In the abstract, though, she can’t help but think _karma_. Chloé’s never been much of a believer – between her religion-unfriendly sexual orientation and the fact that no heaven or paradise would take her in, with the way she knowingly acts – yet she can’t help but think about the events she _barely_ _survived_ as some form of cosmic comeuppance.

_ She _ did this, to  _ herself _ . To Ivan, and Mylene, and the people who were injured or  _ died _ fighting Stoneheart – but came back, thank  _ God _ for Ladybug – and to Paris itself, but she’s honest. Breakdown or not, she’s still Chloé Bourgeois – read, a certified narcissist – and  _ she caused her own near-death _ . How the  _ fuck _ is she supposed to wrestle with this? With living with the knowledge that she would’ve brought about her own demise? With knowing she could’ve just... _ not _ poked fun at the  _ obviously _ traumatized kid and been fine? Ladybug and Cat Noir beat Stoneheart at his strongest, so they  _ probably _ could’ve just...figured out the immobile army of clones on their own, undisturbed. But no, no. Chloe  _ had _ to go and make  _ everything _ worse.

And almost  _ killed _ herself, via giant rock monster.

Chloé’s mind cascades into other offenses she’s performed over the years. With a maniac preying on emotionally vulnerable people, it  _ has _ to be just a matter of time until one of her previous victims is turned into a monster obsessed with getting revenge, right? Will it be the new girl, Alya, turned into some twisted parody of a comic book heroine? Or that eternal wallflower, Juleka, strangling her to death for all the taunting Chloé did because of her recent relationship with Rose?

_ Fuck _ , what if it’s Dupain-Cheng? Chloé hasn’t been able to stop herself from bickering with the raven-haired bakers’ daughter for  _ years _ . How the  _ hell _ is she gonna handle being around Marinette when there’s a perpetual chance she’ll end up causing her to become some kind of demon?

A timid knock on her door brings her out of this dangerous spiral. She glances at the watch on her wrist – it’s already been an  _ hour _ . Her skin consultant is  _ not  _ going to be happy with this much soaking. Chloé finds herself, for once, unable to care - and unable to respond, long enough that the knocks turn frantic.

“Chloé? It’s me, Sabrina.”

“I’m  _ naked _ .” –she eventually barks, before the redhead can get any ideas.

Her ‘friend’ – more like _helpless_ _sycophant_ – stammers. “O-oh. I’ll stay right here, then.”

Chloé sighs to herself. “Honestly, I’d rather you go away.”

“Chloé...I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” –she says, hurt in her voice.

The blonde  _ isn’t _ , that much is clear, but Sabrina is not that kind of friend. Honestly, ever since Adrien was forced to stop seeing her, no one has been. “Your dad was  _ there _ . He should know I’m alright.”

“I...he did tell me you were fine, but...Chloé, you almost  _ died _ . If Ladybug hadn’t caught you...”

“I would be a fabulous smear on the pavement. I  _ know _ .” –she says, more exhausted than she allows herself to express. “Now, if you’re  _ quite _ done reminding me about my own mortality, please be a  _ dear _ and  _ get the fuck out _ .”

Perhaps her previous line of thought wasn’t  _ too _ interrupted by Sabrina’s presence, since she immediately winces after she says this. Part of her still feels justified in chewing her out – like,  _ seriously girl _ , catch the hint – but now she can’t stop thinking about how Sabrina must feel. All she wanted was to check on her. How is telling her to fuck off an appropriate response? Chloé’s heart would  _ shatter _ if Adrien treated her that way – and maybe her and Sabrina’s relationship is not  _ nearly _ as balanced, but she  _ knows _ that, for all her borderline unhealthy, subservient behavior, Sabrina really,  _ truly _ cares for Chloé.

This is... _ not _ ok. Nothing of the past couple days is, but  _ this _ , at least, she can do something about.

Chloé gets out of the tub, and reaches for a nearby bathrobe. She’s dripping wet, her carefully applied makeup has mostly gone down the drain, and she  _ probably  _ ugly-cried during her freak-out, but she still opens the door, hoping to catch Sabrina and apologize.

“Hey- “

There’s no one there. The ginger is gone.

There  _ is _ , however, a small, octagonal, wooden black box at her feet. Chloé almost fools herself into believing Sabrina might’ve dropped it in her – unfortunately,  _ highly  _ justified – haste to leave, but this thing is...well, it  _ feels _ ancient.  _ Valuable _ , but not necessarily in the financial sense. It’s hard to explain, but something at her core  _ hums _ along with this strange box – or perhaps, with its contents.

Chloé’s hand is inextricably drawn to it. She picks the box up, and it immediately pops open. Inside is a small, yellow-black gemstone, shaped roughly like a honeybee. As she stares at it, it  _ changes _ , morphing into an elegant, bee-themed comb. It glows golden, so bright she can only compare it to a tiny sun, right there in her hands. Chloé closes her eyes, but the blinding light quickly subsides.

There’s...a  _ creature, _ floating above the box.

It’s tiny, small enough to fit in her palm with room to spare. It  _ looks _ like a bee, but a somewhat humanoid one, with human-like eyes, arms, and legs. Its irises burn gold, surrounded by blue sclera, and its little body is covered in yellow and dark brown fuzz.

Chloé does not scream. Not necessarily because she doesn’t  _ want _ to, but rather because her mind is, charitably speaking, simply unable to process what she’s seeing.

“Hello, my Queen!” –the tiny being says. Their voice is pleasant, like a small bell struck by a gentle breeze. “My name is Pollen. I’m a Kwami, and you, Chloé Bourgeois, are my Chosen!”


	2. First Day of the Rest of My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paris reacts to Hawk Moth's appearance via the microcosm that is Caline Bustier's class. Chloé is far from amused by the constant reminders of her near death, but that's the least of her worries: she's smuggling a small goddess in her designer purse. On top of that, Mlle. Bustier seems intent on taking advantage of Chloé's ongoing personality crisis...

Chloé walks into school like she’s hiding a bomb inside her gorgeous – and  _ incredibly _ expensive, of course –  _ Birkin _ brand purse.

She’s not. Instead, it’s a tiny  _ goddess _ in the guise of an anthropomorphic bee.

After the initial shock, and the awkward silence that followed, Pollen explained everything. For some reason neither Chloé nor the Kwami herself can make heads or tails of, Chloé was chosen as the latest in a long,  _ long _ – like, ‘thousands of  _ years’ _ long – line of magical warriors, endowed with mystical abilities as a result of bearing what Pollen called a ‘Miraculous’ – the gemstone-turned-comb inside the little black box, currently sitting atop her usual ponytail. Upon invoking Pollen’s name, and uttering some kind of magic catchphrase, Chloé can, supposedly, become one of these magical warriors.

Just like Ladybug. And, of course, just like Hawk Moth.

(Cat Noir too, but he’s, like, the odd man out. Not that Chloé’s one to speak, she supposes)

Someone else might’ve felt excitement at the prospect of becoming a magical superhero – after all, isn’t that the trend, these days? Heroes have come and gone over the ages, especially across the Atlantic, but now it seems like they’re the new celebrities, popping up everywhere, Paris now included. Chloé, however, can’t help but feel dread. She’s a brat, a bully, a narcissist with a mean streak – not  _ exactly _ heroic traits. Chloé even tried to turn Pollen down, but the Kwami was adamant: even if she doesn’t quite know why she chose Chloé to bear her Miraculous, there is  _ always _ a good reason.

Chloé  _ highly _ disagrees, but a part of her  _ does  _ want to find out the reason, if nothing else. After all, Hawk Moth is  _ obviously _ an evil bastard. What good reason could the Butterfly Kwami have had to choose  _ him _ ? So, Chloé carries the goddess around.

She spots a small group huddled around Ivan and Mylene, excitedly chattering about Ladybug’s appearance and the incredible rescue she and Cat Noir were able to pull off. Chloé can’t blame them – it’s all the city can talk about since yesterday – but listening in, even for a second, is enough to sour her mood even further. She glances down at her purse, and sees a pair of tiny golden eyes peering at her. It’s... _ comforting _ , in a way that something staring at her from the inside of a handbag  _ really _ shouldn’t be. She brushes past them, trying not to scowl as she feels the group’s conversation grind to a halt the moment she passes by.

Looking around yields only similar scenes. Chloé tries to spot Sabrina, but she’s nowhere to be found, so the blonde heads straight for the classroom, fifteen minutes before class even starts. It’s  _ unheard _ of from her, and she’s pretty sure other people notice. She can almost feel their collective stares, heating up the back of her head.

Inside is Mlle. Bustier, already done preparing for the school day, casually reading a  _ very worn _ Jane Austen novel, which, upon closer inspection, turns out to be  _ Pride and Prejudice _ . The redhead raises an eyebrow, justifiably confused about her presence. Chloé, in turn, raises her own brow at the red wine stain on the back cover.

“Chloé.” –she says, with her usual kindness. Chloé rapidly notices that the usually pristine, late twenty-something teacher has  _ highly _ unusual bags under her eyes – probably spent the last couple days worried out of her mind for the lives of the students she’s always clearly cared for. “Please, come in. I’m so very glad you’re ok.”

“Thanks.” –Chloé manages.

Caline frowns. “Were you hurt?”

Chloé purses her lips. “Ladybug’s... _ ladybugs _ fixed it. I’m fine.”

“You and I must have very different definitions of ‘fine’. You seem worried. Anxious.” –she notes, putting away the novel. “Not traits I usually associate with my class’s very own ‘queen bee’.”

“ _ Please _ don’t call me that.” –Chloé says, unsure if it’s because it’s an overly kind reminder of her constant attitude problems, or an unknowing reference to Pollen and the Bee Miraculous.

The redhead raises her hands in surrender. “As you wish.” –she says. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you can trust me with anything that might be bothering you.”

As much as Chloé wishes she could, Pollen was very clear: except for life or death circumstances, she is  _ not _ to intentionally reveal the fact that she’s a Miraculous bearer to anyone. She even went as far as to explain that this secrecy is so important, that the Miraculous magically alters people’s perception of her - not even her own parents would be able to recognize her.

Well, Chloe´s mom probably wouldn’t anyway, Miraculous magic or not.

“I yelled at Sabrina yesterday.” –she finds herself admitting, instead. “She came over, worried about me, and I basically told her to fuck off.”

Caline doesn’t appreciate the language, but she mercifully refrains from chastising her. “I see. And you feel...” –she prompts.

Chloe sighs. “Guilty. Well, more like an ungrateful  _ bitch _ , but... _ sure _ , let’s go with guilty.”

“Chloé, it’s not unfair of you to need some time alone after experiencing trauma like yesterday’s.” –she says. “I understand your guilt over how you likely came across, but I’d also like to remind you that, even if you don’t consider Sabrina your friend as much as  _ she  _ considers you to be hers, she  _ is _ still your friend, and thus  _ probably _ willing to forgive you.”

“Well, maybe I don’t  _ deserve _ her forgiveness.” –Chloe spits out.

The redhead frowns. “What makes you say that?”

“ _ Please _ , you’re not an  _ idiot _ . You  _ know _ how I treat everyone, in and out of the classroom. Sabrina might –  _ might _ – have it better than most, but I still treat her like  _ shit _ .”

Frankly, why she’s allowed it so long, Chloé doesn’t understand. The other teachers and the headmaster, they’re afraid of her status and her father’s influence, but Mlle. Bustier has never cared for her trademark ‘I’ll call Daddy and see how he feels about this’ threats.

“I appreciate the concession.” –she notes,  _ almost _ sarcastically. “And yes, of  _ course _ I know about your attitude. It’s certainly a problem, Chloé, but it doesn’t preclude you from deserving compassion, or forgiveness. You’re still a human being, capable of both good and evil.”

“I don’t know that I agree.”

She really doesn’t. Mostly, it’s just evil with her.

Caline smirks. “Maybe you don’t notice, instead.” –she says. “Chloé, I make sure to note every time you show yourself to be a fundamentally good person. I have for years, and you’d be surprised to know how many of these occasions I’ve noticed.”

Chloé scoffs. “Name  _ one _ .” –she challenges.

“I can name  _ several _ . I can tell you about all the times you’ve helped your classmates understand a difficult topic – through a fog of swear words and condescension, perhaps, but still. I can remind you of all the times you’ve paid for people’s lunches, even if you claim it’s to flaunt your wealth. I can recount the times you’ve defended your classmates from other bullies, even though you swear it’s because they’re  _ yours _ to harass.” –she lists off. “Chloé, you may not be a  _ nice _ person, but I wholeheartedly believe you to be a  _ good _ one.”

Chloé can feel Pollen buzzing inside her bag. She’s not sure if the Kwami’s agreeing with her teacher, or expressing her regret for choosing to bestow in her the mighty power she wields. Chloé wasn’t all that clear on how much Pollen knew of her beforehand.

The school bell rings, and Mlle. Bustier’s class files in. Caline gives Chloé a meaningful look, before gesturing at her seat, and looking at Dupain-Cheng, who’s, interestingly, last inside - the girl may be terminally clumsy, but she is  _ always  _ first inside, as someone who lives half a block away should be. 

Sabrina is still absent.

“Marinette, would you be a dear and sit with Chloé today?” –the redhead pleasantly asks.

Half the class hisses and the rest raise their eyebrows.  _ Everyone _ in  _ François Dupont _ , and possibly beyond, knows the two can’t stand each other.

The brunette anxiously looks back and forth between Alya and Chloé. “I...may I ask why, Mlle. Bustier?”

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the fact that Chloé, along with Ivan and Mylene, were affected by the actions of a madman yesterday, yes?” –she asks, rhetorically. “Ivan and Mylene have each other for comfort – and of course, the support of the whole class – but Sabrina was unable to attend today. I would like for you to be there for Chloé.”

Marinette swallows hard, but ultimately nods, resolute, like she’s about to  _ bungee jump _ , or something. Chloé looks away, already scowling. “Of course, Mademoiselle.”

Chloé doesn’t dare look in her direction, but Marinette does, in fact, sit next to her, much to the entire class’ shock. She gets it – Chloé doesn’t  _ really _ need Marinette to sub in for Sabrina, but Mlle. Bustier’s plan is more complicated than that. Just like  _ everyone  _ knows Chloé isn’t  _ exactly  _ a good person,  _ everyone _ knows Marinette Dupain-Cheng is, like, the  _ best _ person. Caline must want to press the advantage on Chloé’s current identity crisis. It’s  _ smart _ , but also  _ really _ risky.

If Chloé reserves a special brand of vitriol for the french-chinese girl, it’s mostly because she’s got everything Chloé lacks. She’s got genuinely caring parents, the love of the whole class, talents out the  _ wazoo _ , and that ‘cute girl next door’ look that makeup just can’t achieve, no matter how expensive. She’s direct without being rude, she’s honest without hurting people’s feelings, and she’s kind without making an effort.

Hell, as of the end of last year, she’s an out and proud bisexual. Hosts the LGBT+ school club after hours, and everything. Chloé hasn’t even managed telling  _ one person _ she’s a lesbian.

To make matters worse, Dupain-Cheng was Chloé’s ‘_hey, you like girls,_ _idiot_’ wake-up call. Chloé _kinda_ knew what she was about before – growing up, she only ever considered Adrien an attractive boy, while every other girl in the many functions and parties she was forced by her father to attend would draw her eye – but meeting Marinette for the first time, four years ago, was like...well, like when you open an oven and the hot air kinda _punches you in the face_. Harassing and bickering with Marinette have served her well as both a defense mechanism and an excuse to interact with her, but...well, that was _before_. Before she almost died, before Hawk Moth was a _thing_. Chloé is unsure how to proceed, and that _terrifies_ her.

Well, internally. Externally, she’s in full-on ‘ice queen’ mode.

Class progresses pretty normally, for a post-magical disaster day. Adrien comes in late – a modelling shoot, no doubt – and greets Chloé like they haven’t stopped talking for years.

It’s…nice, honestly.

He also greets Marinette with an odd, uncharacteristic blush, which Chloé files away for later teasing.

Really, Chloé wouldn’t blame him. He’d be joining a rather robust club if he turned out to have  _ already _ developed a crush on Dupain-Cheng. She’s only glad she’s graduated out of it.

Right?  _ Right _ .

Mlle. Bustier’s highly irregular ‘talk amongst yourselves’ hour – she  _ really _ shouldn’t do that, but Caline  _ don’t give a damn _ , especially not when her stellar teaching style makes her classes progress a  _ little _ too quickly for the established schedule – comes, and of  _ course _ everyone starts talking about Ladybug and Cat Noir.

“Do you think they’re Avengers?” –Kim asks, all too eager.

Alix immediately shakes her head. “No  _ way _ . Those guys are old and stuff. Ladybug and Cat Noir looked like teenagers.”

Alya shakes her head. “They’re too focused on America to have randomly sent a couple of heroes over. Plus, Hawk Moth  _ just _ popped up.”

Max pushes up his massive glasses. Y’know, like a  _ nerd _ . “Statistically speaking, it  _ is _ extremely likely that Ladybug and Cat Noir were a result of Hawk Moth’s appearance. I can’t imagine they’ve been heroes long enough to get a handle on their abilities, let alone be members of a superhero team.”

“They  _ were _ a little amateurish.” –Nino notes.

Adrien shrugs. “I thought they did alright.”

Juleka purses her lips. “I’m worried about Ladybug.” –she says. She really _ has  _ come a long way, since dating Rose. She can talk out loud, and everything. “She figured it out in the end, but if she hadn’t...” –the goth trails off, though not without glancing at Chloé.

Beside her, Marinette hums in agreement. “Yeah...and what happens if she doesn’t figure it out next time? Or if she gets... _ taken down _ , and nobody can fix Hawk Moth’s destruction?”

Chloé scoffs, and finds herself in the middle of an outburst before she knows it. “Lacking confidence in our new heroes is  _ stupid _ . You all saw how powerless everyone  _ else  _ was against Stoneheart.” –she says, making sure to at least  _ verbally _ distinguish the monster from Ivan, who merely frowns a bit. “Ladybug and Cat Noir  _ have  _ to win. There  _ can’t _ be any ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’ about them, because if they lose, it’s  _ game over _ .”

Silence dominates the classroom. Marinette is looking at her like she’s grown a third eye. Adrien’s eyebrows are approaching the rooftop at terminal speed.

“Chloé is right.” –Mlle. Bustier chimes in from behind wine-stained  _ Pride and Prejudice _ . “We  _ must _ believe that Ladybug and Cat Noir will prevail, and support them in any way we can. Doubting them can only hamper their chances.”

Alya tilts her head. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a fan, Chloé.” -she says, teasing.

Chloé crosses her arms and leans back on her chair. “I wouldn’t _exactly_ _be here_ for you all to _gawk_ at if Ladybug hadn’t saved my _life_ yesterday, new girl.”

She can almost  _ hear _ Marinette’s heart break – from sheer empathy, no doubt. “Chloé...” –she mutters, hesitantly reaching out.

“I don’t  _ need _ your pity.” –she spits out, rising out of her chair. “And neither does Ladybug, so quit your whining.”

* * *

Chloé throws up in a restroom stall not ten minutes later. Pollen dutifully holds her hair out of her face, for which she’s immensely thankful for, as well as the fact that she managed  _ not _ to vomit in the classroom. It’s too much; she thought she could handle the conversation, but all she ended up doing was replaying the fall in her head, over and over.

In her mind, Ladybug  _ doesn’t _ catch her. Can’t.  _ Shouldn’t _ have, maybe.

“It’s okay, Chloé. You were very brave in there.” –Pollen reassures her.

Chloé snorts. “Was I, really? I think you’ve been away from human society for a  _ really _ long time, Pollen. I was my usual  _ bitch self _ .”

The little goddess shakes her head. “I’ve not chosen a bearer in  _ centuries _ , it’s true, but bravery has never been in short supply amongst you humans. As I understand it, it takes some courage to face one’s mortality. I can only imagine it takes quite a bit more to do so repeatedly, in public, while keeping a façade of strength.”

“Well, look where it got me.” –she says, bitter, but slightly mollified. “On my knees, puking my  _ guts _ out from sheer anxiety.”

Pollen’s tiny little hand pats her temple. “It will pass, my Queen.” –she says.

Chloé blows her nose and wipes her lips – not necessarily in that order. “It  _ better _ . How am I supposed to figure this Miraculous shit out if I can’t think about it without remembering I almost died?”

“It’s a different process for every bearer.” –Pollen says, shrugging. “But I am confident you will succeed.”

“That makes  _ one _ of us.” –Chloé says, and gets up to leave. Pollen dives into her ponytail in a hurry as she exits the stall, which just so happens to coincide with Dupain-Cheng walking into the girls’ restroom.

_Fucking_ _hell_, this day. This _week_, even.

Marinette purses her lips. “Oh, hey Chloé.”

“Don’t even  _ start _ with that crap, Dupain-Cheng.” –Chloé warns. “Yesterday was a  _ shit day _ , and I’d like to leave it in the past.”

The brunette frowns. “I don’t follow.”

Chloé closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “You never  _ greet _ me. You and I  _ hate _ each other. Don’t take this away from me.”

“Chloé, I don’t  _ hate _ you. I’ve  _ never _ hated you.” –Marinette says, and Chloé can already feel herself bristling at this turn of events. “The way you treat people, sure.  _ That _ sucks. But you’ve always been a better person than you allowed yourself to act like.”

“Did Bustier put you up to this?” –Chloé demands.

Marinette shakes her head, genuinely surprised. “ _ No _ ? Aside from earlier, she hasn’t asked me to do anything else. But I saw how pale you got in the classroom before storming out, and then no one could find you, so I looked for you. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Chloé wants to scream, but she won’t, because  _ yeah _ , that’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng for you. Of  _ course _ she took it upon herself to make sure Chloé was doing alright. Of  _ course _ she came in ready to toss some niceties at her bitter antagonist. Marinette is, and  _ always _ has been, a goddamn  _ saint _ .

“I’m really  _ not _ .” –Marinette says, just a little amused, and  _ fuck _ , did she just say that out loud? She  _ totally _ did. “I like what I’m  _ assuming _ is your internal monologue, but you’re dead wrong. I make mistakes, like everyone else.”

Chloé sneers. “Tripping over your feet every five seconds doesn’t count.” –she tries to argue. It’s... _ weak _ . She’s usually better at this.

“No, but assuming Adrien was a jerk without even letting him get a word in edgewise probably does.” –Marinette counters. “Avoiding Nino because I know he has a crush on me isn’t very nice, either.”

Chloé rolls her eyes. “Oh, get  _ over _ yourself, Dupain-Cheng. You only got mad with Adrien because you thought he’d hurt somebody else. And you’re avoiding Nino because you can’t bring yourself to hurt  _ his _ feelings. You’re  _ still _ a goddamn saint.”

“Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons is  _ still _ doing the wrong thing.” –Marinette argues. “But I digress. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She’s really not, but Chloé is at least thankful that this conversation is ending. Well, almost. Marinette reaches into her little pink purse – handmade, because of  _ course _ it had to be – and plucks a mint from the inside, tossing it at Chloé.

“That obvious, huh?” –Chloé asks, resigned.

“No, not really. But I’ve been where you are, and anxiety doesn’t do my stomach any favors, either.” –Marinette shrugs. “I’m just as human as everyone else, Chloé. I screw up, I stress  _ all the time _ , I get anxious. I try my best to be a good person – a  _ worthy _ person – but I don’t always succeed. Letting myself rise to your bait all the time? That’s me, failing over and over again. But here I am, willing to give you a chance, because just as I’m not as good as you think you are,  _ you’re _ not as bad as you wanna be.”

Chloé wants them to fight. She wants to reject this silly notion, and go back to last week, where she knew where she, and everyone else in relation to her, stood. But this is a brave new world, in which her petty actions can have lethal consequences, and where her very sense of self has been challenged for the first time since she was a little kid trying to figure out why her mother didn’t even care enough to say  _ bye-bye _ . She can’t fathom being the person both Mlle. Bustier and Marinette have described, but she can  _ see _ the conviction in their eyes. Two people in her corner already – a corner she didn’t even realize she had.

“Thanks.” –Chloé says, then crosses her arms, turning her nose up with all the post-vomit, post-anxiety attack dignity she can muster. “Y’know, for the mint.”

Marinette smiles. “Anytime.”

And damned if Chloé doesn’t believe it.


	3. Stalled Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every hero goes through the "suit-up" process.
> 
> Most actually...keep the suit on longer than thirty seconds, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The key to removing any and all unwanted sexual connotation when writing a scene where a character is in their underwear is to describe such clothing as "skivvies"
> 
> I mean, at least, I hope so. Chloé starts out in her underwear in this one, so please keep in mind she's like, fifteen in this fic.

Chloé stands, stripped down to her skivvies, before one of her - unsurprisingly,  _ many  _ \- full-body mirrors. She glances at her phone, but there’s no answer from Sabrina yet. Not that she’d  _ tell _ Sabrina what she’s about to do, but part of her was kinda hoping for the long term distraction from her current task that making up with her friend would signify.

“So, how does this work?” –she finally asks Pollen, who’s taken to flitting around the room, taking in the many changes to human living spaces that must have happened in the past few centuries. Chloé still finds it kinda weird to be sharing her much treasured privacy with the tiny goddess, but the Kwami doesn’t seem to care about silly human concepts like  _ ‘nudity’ _ , or  _ ‘modesty’ _ . She  _ hopes _ she’ll get used to it, because locking herself in her suite with the blinds closed, with no companions but her bathrobe, popcorn, and a movie is  _ kinda _ her happy place.

“You say ‘ _ Pollen, Buzz On! _ ’, and I merge with the Miraculous, granting you access to a portion of my power.” –she says. “Immobilization, flight, senses beyond what humans are capable of, telepathic communication, the strength of a hundred million bees...”

Chloé raises an eyebrow. “And this is a  _ portion _ of your power.”

Pollen nods. “Just what your frail human body can handle! At least for now. Over time, and as your body develops, you may be able to wield more of it!”

“I don’t know that I  _ want _ more.” –Chloé says. “But I’ll take your word for it. What about the costume?”

The Kwami shrugs. “That’s up to you, my Queen. The transformation takes your imagination and desires into account. The suit must, of course, be bee-themed, but the details are yours to imagine and bring to reality.”

Ah. So she  _ didn’t  _ have to strip for this.  _ Whoops _ .

Chloé snorts. “Is that why Ladybug’s costume looks like a  _ onesie _ ?”

Pollen giggles. “I can only imagine her urgency trumped her fashion sense. I’m  _ sure _ she’ll look better next time.”

“Maybe I can give her some pointers...” –Chloé muses.

The blonde snaps her fingers and grabs her laptop, opening it and impatiently waiting for it to boot. “You said something about some kind of...ultimate ability, right?” –Chloé asks.

The Kwami nods. “Yes, it’s called Hive Mind. When you say those words, you’ll send out a mental pulse to nearby allies, linking their minds with yours and allowing you to instantly plan and carry out team-based battle strategies without the usual telepathic drawback of messing with their fragile human minds.” –she explains. Chloé thinks this power is kinda... _ lacking _ , compared to Cat Noir’s weaponized entropy, or Ladybug’s power of pure creation, but Hive Mind sounds a little more... _ practical _ , at least, if a little situational.

The computer chimes ready, and Chloé dives into her older files. And they  _ are _ old; the image she’s looking for is from years ago, when she practically  _ lived _ in Adrien’s house. Adrien was always something of a dork, and even though she doesn’t really consider herself one, she can’t deny – to herself, at least – that some of his tastes rubbed off on her from sheer osmosis. Even nowadays she’ll catch herself humming along to the  _ Power Rangers _ theme, or idly browsing for ridiculously expensive  _ Sailor Moon  _ memorabilia.

She smiles, wistfully, as she finds the image. Adrien always  _ did _ love superheroes.

Pollen peeks over her pale shoulder. “ _ Oh... _ I  _ like _ this one.”

“I had it commissioned years ago. Adrik- er,  _ Adrien _ came up with his own design, so of  _ course _ I had to one-up his.” –she says, looking at the design. With a few mental tweaks, it could  _ easily _ fit Pollen’s theme. “I never thought I’d actually, y’know,  _ use _ it.”

“The greatest destinies befall those who least expect them.” –Pollen wisely says. Well, Chloé thinks it sounds wise, at least. “Go on, then. Say the words, my Queen.”

Chloé nods, determined. “Pollen,  _ Buzz On! _ ”

A rush of wind that sounds like insect wings buzzing fills the room, as Pollen merges with the comb atop her head. Golden light flows from it, instantly covering her in a full-body, black and yellow suit. The transformation lasts but a second, after which she looks at herself in the mirror...and hardly recognizes herself.

She brings a gloved hand – yellow palms and black fingers – to her right cheek, tracing the edge of the black domino mask obscuring her identity. It has a very subtle, compound eye pattern. Her eyes now match Pollen’s, burning gold irises with blue sclera. It’s a trippy look on her, ethereal and unnerving all at the same time. Her golden hair seems to glow in the relative darkness of her room, and thin, raven-black highlights have appeared all over it, at semi-regular intervals.

Y’know, like a bee.

Chloé knows for a fact that she’s a beautiful young woman, but this is on another  _ level _ . She looks like some kind of demigod – like she could call forth lightning and smite a certain magical terrorist, perhaps – a greek sculpture come to blazing life. Chloé briefly wonders if her mother would pay attention to  _ this _ version of her, but she knows better. Audrey Bourgeois never settles for anything less than she considers worthy of her time, and gorgeous superheroine or not, she’s not it. She’s never been, and she doubts that’ll ever change.

Chloé’s hands roam her body, and it feels.. _ wrong _ . The curves and proportions are  _ sorta _ right, but...there’s a tightness to her body that wasn’t there before. Chloé does  _ some _ yoga, sure - whenever she’s in the mood  _ and  _ it doesn’t conflict with a hair appointment, or a spa day, or  _ something _ \- but the muscle beneath the magical suit is  _ not _ her own. Ladybug’s body was like this, too, and she knew, empirically, to expect the additional muscle mass, but...she didn’t expect the dysphoria that comes with it. 

This isn’t her body. She looks in the mirror and...well, this isn’t  _ her _ , is it? Not just physically, either; the woman staring back looks...daring,  _ inspiring _ , like a beacon of hope in the making. Chloé Bourgeois is exactly  _ none  _ of these things.

“ _ Buzz Off _ .” -she whispers.

As quickly as the suit appeared, it now vanishes in a flash of gold. A very concerned Pollen floats up to her, looking at their reflection.

“What is it?”

Chloé scoffs. “What do you  _ think _ ?”

“I think you haven’t even given  _ yourself _ a chance before rejecting the notion that you could be what you, admittedly, might not be right now.”

Chloé flops back into her bed. “Everyone seems to believe I deserve a second chance but  _ me _ .”

“Are you _not_ _usually_ a contrarian?”

Chloé frowns. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” -Pollen counters. “As someone who’s been around since  _ before  _ your species dominated this planet, I can tell you, without a doubt, that humanity’s greatest asset is its  _ potential _ .  _ Seriously _ , I wasn’t around for a couple hundred years, and your kind figured out both flight  _ and  _ spaceflight.”

“But I’m  _ not _ like them! The Bustiers and Agrestes and... _ fuck _ , the  _ Dupain-Chengs _ of the world,  _ they’re  _ the ones who deserve to  _ fuck up _ and try again!”

“The fact that you can say this  _ alone  _ is proof that you deserve a shot at redemption.” -Pollen notes. “Would you have said anything like it if I’d chosen you  _ before  _ Hawk Moth appeared?”

The blonde blushes. “...no. I’d...probably have flaunted my powers all over.”

Pollen nods, reassuring. “I came to you when I did for a reason. And even though it was entirely instinctual, I can tell you it’s  _ probably _ because you are at a point in your life in which many paths are laid before you. You could’ve chosen to ignore your responsibility in Ivan’s akumatization and continued on as you were. You could’ve chosen to ignore my warnings and gone straight to your mother, revealing your identity. You could’ve chosen to seek out Hawk Moth, and delivered me to him, dooming Paris while saving yourself. And yet, here we are; working through your panic and anxiety, as you take the first steps in the path of a hero.” -she says, then turns to look at her - the  _ real  _ her. “Even if you  _ didn’t  _ deserve this chance, you’ve already got it. Why let it go to waste?”

Chloé swallows. She’s crying, but it’s not really  _ sad _ tears that fall from her cheeks - it’s a mixture of anxiety and gratitude, fear and hope. It’s hard to internalize, but...Pollen isn’t wrong. Chloé could’ve just continued on, business as usual. Shaken, perhaps, by her brush with death, but having safely retreated back into her nasty persona, even doubled down on her cruelty to compensate. She’d have probably caused another akumatization by now. The only reason she’s so inside her head right now is that she  _ didn’t _ take the well worn path back to her old habits, for once. This is uncharted territory - risky, upsetting, and confusing, yes, but also  _ exciting _ in its sheer potential.

Pollen gasps. “Chloé, take off your Miraculous!”

The blonde blinks, confused, until she turns and sees the reason for the Kwami’s sudden panic.

That  _ motherfucker _ . 

An Akuma flits around her darkened room, seemingly harmless, but a wretched source of pure, evil power in its current, corrupted state. It’s  _ beautiful _ , up close, midnight black with glowing violet patterns on its wings. It’s a shame, really, that this tiny creature harbors enough potential energy to destroy Paris.

It seems... _ confused _ , as if searching for its victim. Chloe’s right  _ there _ , though. She slowly reaches up, and takes the Miraculous off of her ponytail, gingerly placing it inside the little wooden box. Pollen yelps as she turns back to golden energy, and gets reabsorbed into the Miraculous.

The Akuma roams around her suite for a couple minutes, but ultimately seems to decide there are no suitable hosts, and flies away, squeezing through the lock on her balcony door. Chloé releases the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and breathes deeply for a few minutes, in an effort to calm herself. 

Pollen, once released again, immediately goes to nuzzle her Miraculous’ holder’s cheek.

“You’re ok, you’re ok. I’m  _ so  _ proud of you, my Queen.”

Chloé doesn’t feel proud. She feels outraged at Hawk Moth’s predatory opportunism, and like her privacy’s been violated, but mostly she just feels... _ lucky _ . Nevertheless, she cups Pollen in her hands, before placing the Miraculous atop her head once again. 

“Chloé?” -Pollen asks, hesitantly.

“We need to follow that thing. Maybe it’ll lead us back to Hawk Moth.”

Pollen frowns in worry. “Chloé, the Butterfly is for Ladybug and the Black Cat to defeat.” -she warns. “The Bee is not meant to be the aggressor. We support the others, and hold the hive together, but going on the offensive can be deadly for a lone Bee. Even for a Queen.”

Chloé purses her lips. “So I  _ don’t _ confront the bastard. But I can  _ still  _ follow the Akuma back to the source. Find out where Hawk Moth is hiding, and tell Ladybug so we can take him down, together.”

Pollen grabs the tip of her nose. “ _ Please _ ,  _ don’t _ go out by yourself. It’s too risky.”

“Not as risky as letting that  _ jackass _ prey on just about anyone who’s having a bad day.” -Chloé says. “Now, Pollen,  _ Buzz On _ !”


	4. Cooperation, or a Lack Thereof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Bee debuts amidst the skies of the City of Lights.
> 
> It's...less than ideal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for violence beyond canon typical levels (nothing horrific, though, no worries)

As it turns out, there’s not much of a learning curve to flying as the Queen Bee. Wings made of light sprout from her back at a thought, and flutter at the exact speed she needs them to in order to float, rise, descend, and so on. It’s not, like, _ Iron Man _ fast, but she’s reasonably sure she could make the trip across the city in five, ten minutes tops. Good to keep in mind for future escapades.

Not that she has to go _ fast _ , of course. Evil incarnate or not, she _ is _just chasing a butterfly.

The Akuma is hard to spot, even with her supernaturally enhanced senses. It’s a mote of darkness against the City of Lights below, easy to miss in the shadows they cast. It follows a crooked path, sometimes veering tantalizingly close to buildings, and the innocent people within, sometimes simply floating around, high above the city, about as harmless as a leaf swaying in the wind.

Chloé can’t help but wonder - what does that bastard get out of this? Hawk Moth made it clear that he intends to take Ladybug and Cat Noir’s Miraculouses for himself, but...then what? What would a madman like the Butterfly’s wielder want to do with such immense power? Is this, like, a world-conquering scenario, or something more insidious?

It’s impossible to tell for certain. Too early to tell, too many questions and not _ nearly _enough answers.

Some fifteen minutes into the chase, the Akuma stops in mid air. Chloé nearly crashes against it, but manages to stop in time. It daintily floats and just..._ stares _ at her. At least, she _ thinks _it stares - it’s hard to tell, with such diminutive eyes.

Chloé readies herself. Is the Akuma going to try and get her? Or is it waiting for something else?

Oh _ shit _ . What, is Hawk Moth gonna pick it up, right here? Chloé glances around with dread, all but expecting him to pop out from the shadows, but the terrorist doesn’t show. Instead, the Akuma _ dives _ , straight into a quaint little apartment building below. Chloé tries to stop it from going in, but the little bugger _ phases through _ the ceiling. All she can do is roughly land on her knee and fist, cracking the stony surface beneath.

Before Chloé can figure out her next step, a series of screams start ringing throughout the building. Her stomach drops, because she knows _ exactly _ what’s happened - someone’s been akumatized.

How the _ fuck _ does one call Ladybug?

The roof _ explodes _ , but she manages to backflip out of the way with grace and agility superior to those of an Olympic athlete. It’s _ exhilarating _ , knowing just what her body can do when bonded with Pollen’s divine might, but also _ terrifying _ to witness the power of an Akuma first-hand. 

Y’know, _ again _. 

She wishes Pollen were around to keep her distracted from thinking too much about that _ other _ time she faced an akumatized victim, but the Kwami made it very clear in their first meeting: once she bonds with the Miraculous, Chloé is on her own.

Chloé holds her fists before her, in a defensive stance. The villainess climbs out of the whole she’s just made - not with her limbs, but with a cartoonishly massive mane of lively purple hair. Her face is deathly pale, her eyes are a solid, demonic black, and tears mixed with mascara flow freely down her cheeks. Her body is set in a macabre rictus, listless as if she’d hung herself, but in truth, merely dangling from her scalp, depressed.

“**I am Blind Date!** ” -she screeches - to no one in particular, since she hasn’t noticed Chloé yet. “ **I’ll show that ** ** _pitiful_ ** ** excuse for a man just ** ** _what_ ** ** my colorful hair is good for!**”

Chloé resists the urge to roll her eyes. Stoneheart clearly had some thought put into him, but Blind Date is definitely a _ bit _ more... _ improvised _ . Getting akumatized just because some jackass doesn’t like a woman with bright purple hair is _ kinda _dumb, but she must’ve been the best target available to the Akuma in the building.

The villainess notices her. “**And who are ** ** _you_ ** ** supposed to be?**”

“Not the guy you’re looking for.” -Chloé says, with bravado, even though her palms feel clammy as hell. “And I can’t exactly let you go around, blowing up apartment buildings, so you better _spit_ _out_ that magic butterfly and _hope _Ladybug can fix this shit.”

_ Jesus _ . If she’s really gonna do this, she’s gonna _ need _ to figure out fight-speech. That was _ pathetic _.

She perks up. “** _Ladybug_ ** **! Yes! Take me to her now, so I can ** ** _break _ ** **her, ** ** _rip_ ** ** the Miraculous from her body, and give it to Hawk Moth!**”

Chloé winces. _ That _ took a turn _ . _ “Tell your _ dumbass boss _ he needs to take up a _ different fucking hobby _than terrifying civilians and collecting tacky jewelry.” 

Blind Date groans. “**GAH, I don’t have ** ** _time_ ** ** for you! Point me to Ladybug or my date, or get out of my way!**”

“_ Or _ \- and here’s a neat idea - I call Ladybug _ after _ I _ beat your ass _.”

She surges forward, anime-style - that _ is _ her main source of superhero knowledge, after all - and throws a punch that Chloé Bourgeois doesn’t _ actually _ know how to throw. It’s instinct, skill, and talent, all distilled from a hundred former Bee holders, long dead, yet still watching over her through the Miraculous. It’s kinda _ trippy _ , but not _ nearly _ as bizarre as the fact that her fist is now _ stuck _ to the akumatized villainess’s jaw.

Oh. So _ that’s _why her hands felt clammy.

“**What…? Is this ** ** _HONEY_ ** **!?**” -the villain demands, outraged.

It _definitely_ is, much to Chloé’s chagrin. Cat Noir has a metallic, telescoping baton, Ladybug has a _magic yo-yo_ \- seriously, what’s up with _that_? Why the _fuck_ is her magic weapon a _toy_? - and Queen Bee can, apparently, generate honey, or a honey-like substance, from her bare hands.

Chloé quickly deduces that _ this _ is the ‘immobilization’ power Pollen mentioned. It’s _ kinda _gross, but she can see just how effective it is - already, it’s hardened into a crystalline structure near the impact point, and the ‘spray’ from the blow has gotten all over the villainess’s hair, gunking it up.

Chloé doesn’t really get more time to appreciate how versatile her powers might be, because a lasso of hair encircles her torso and yanks her back, painfully ripping her away, and slamming her against a small brick smokestack, which gets _ completely _ demolished. It _ hurts _ , for sure, but she’s entirely unscathed, save for the bits of rubble she’ll _ probably _have to fish out of her hair later. Blind Date leaps up and toward her, intending to crush the heroine under the weight of her supernaturally enhanced hair, but Queen Bee is leaps and bounds ahead - pun intended - in the agility department. She bolts out of the impact zone just in time, and slings a couple globs of honey at the crashing figure.

Blind Date screeches in outrage, her purple mane flaring out like a cobra’s hood, but this only serves to spread the delicious goo. Chloé wills the substance to harden - again, on instinct borne of experience not her own - and the akumatized victim becomes imprisoned in what’s essentially a bizarre-looking beehive.

“Give it _ up _, already.” -Chloe growls. “There’s more where that came from.”

She thrashes around, trying to break free, but the prison around her won’t budge. It’s _ almost _funny, in a rather pathetic way, but then she goes slack, a butterfly-shaped outline glowing to life, suspended a couple inches in front of her face. 

Chloé frowns, and approaches slowly, a fistful of honey at the ready.

She stops in her tracks, as her head rises, too quickly to be natural. The villainess’s eyes are clouded, vacant, but the smirk on her chapped, black lips is very clearly touched by madness.

“_ I see the little gods have been busier than expected _ .” -she says - well, _ they _say. The voice is double layered, the akumatized woman’s strangled speech overshadowed by a man’s smooth, gravely tone.

“Hawk Moth.” -Chloé breathes, trying her best not to let her fists shake in fear.

Blind-Moth tilts their head. “_ You know of _ me _ , of course, but I haven’t the pleasure, mademoiselle… _?”

She scowls. “My name is Queen Bee.”

“_ Imaginative. _ ” -they say, sardonic. “ _ Truly, the Bee Miraculous is in excellent hands. _”

“Better mine than yours, _ jackass _.” -she spits out.

They ignore her. “_ Ladybug and the Black Cat I expected, of course, but yours is...an unexpected factor, perhaps even a boon _ . _ Exciting times are ahead, wouldn’t you say _?”

“What, _more _wanton destruction at the hands of a super powered maniac? Who wouldn’t want _that_?” -she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re either an _idiot_, or a sick _bastard_, and I don’t know which would be worse.”

“_ The idiot, certainly. They might not know the pain and horror they bring, come to regret it one day. Trust me, little bee: _ I _ do - and I _ won’t _ . _”

“Sick bastard it is.” -she says, then prepares to knock out the entity before her. Since Ladybug isn’t showing up, it’s the best strategy she’s got.

“_ Mmm, indeed. And I sense we are kindred spirits, in that way _.” 

Chloé stops. Their smirk turns even more wicked. “_ Perhaps your Kwami has explained it to you - or maybe she has chosen not to trust you with the _ real _ secrets. Where the Ladybug is Creation, and the Black Cat is Destruction, the Butterfly is Potential. It peers into the soul, brings forth the most _ powerful _ of emotions - rage, lust, and hatred - and creates from them a being capable of wielding their immense power. _”

“I don’t need the philosophy spiel. Get to the _ point _ , or get _ out of her head _.”

“_ I may not know what your name is, but I know who you _ are _ . _” 

Chloé’s stomach drops. “What are you _ talking _ about?”

They half-shrug. “_ Your greed, your envy, your lust for power and domination over your peers. You torture, and slander, and pretend it’s all their fault in the end. You demand servitude and give nothing but scorn in return. _”

“That’s _ not _ me. Not anymore.”

Blind-Moth cackles, spittle falling on the cracked ceiling. “_ Why _ ? _ Because you’re a _ hero _ , now _ ? _ Because fortune favored you with powers you never deserved - that you never _ could _ deserve _?”

She grits her teeth, grabbing them by the throat. “I’ve made my choice. I’ll _ earn _ them! Unlike _ you _ .” -she says, tightening her grip. “You say we’re two of a kind, but we _ both _ know the Butterfly Kwami could never have picked _ you _ . Whatever you did, it wasn’t _ natural _ . You’ll _ never _ be worthy of your Miraculous, let _ alone _ Ladybug and Cat Noir’s.”

“_ Oh, don’t _ fool _ yourself, little bee. _ ” -they choke out. “ _ Unlike _ you _ , I’m not denying _ anything _ about myself. I don’t much care about _ earning _ my powers. All I care is that I _ have _ these tools, and that they will net me _ better _ , more _ powerful _ ones - once I _ kill _ Paris’ so-called _ heroes _ . _” 

It’s so sudden she can’t quite tell how it happened, but in an instant, their positions are reversed; Blind-Moth has broken free from the crystallized honey, and their overwhelming amount of living hair has completely bound her limbs, and tightened itself around her throat.

“_ I have little use for the Miraculous of _ Cooperation _ , but I think I’ll take it just the same. _ ” -they say, inches away from their face. “ _ It was a pleasure, little bee. Don’t worry: I’ll take _ excellent _ care of Pollen _.”

Chloé can barely move, and then not even enough to throw some curses at the bastard. Not that it matters, since the glowing mask vanishes, and Blind Date comes back to monstrous life.

The villainess taunts her, but Chloé can’t hear it anymore. She’s rapidly losing touch with reality, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.

As far as ways to die go, this is at _ least _ better than falling to her death, or getting crushed in a golem’s palm. The Miraculous protects her from most of the pain, and _ really _ , the oxygen deprivation-caused deliriousness she’s starting to feel is actually kinda nice. She’s... _ sad _, mostly for Pollen. The Kwami may have made a mistake with her, but she absolutely doesn’t deserve to become Hawk Moth’s slave. 

She tried, at least. _ Stupidly _ , and _ recklessly _ , but she _ tried _ . And _ hey _ , maybe she’ll change a mind or two, once people figure out she died trying to follow Ladybug’s footsteps. Maybe someone will _ actually _ miss her, now. Adrien, hopefully. Her daddy will make the _ biggest _ deal out if it, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a _ tiny _bit relieved by the news. Bustier will be heartbroken, and Marinette’s a given, too, after their little heart to heart. 

Will Sabrina…?

Chloé’s mind fades to darkness, just as a flash of red and black crosses the last of her vision, and peace befalls her troubled mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't judge me too harshly for using such a mediocre Akuma, that was *kinda* the intention, and it was entirely based on a rant a friend was going on at the time of writing.


	5. The Bee and The Butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloé wakes up in a strange place, with her Kwami nowhere to be found. Something about her whereabouts is familiar, though, and once the apartment's owner makes themself known, things start making a bit too much sense.
> 
> Magical destiny bullshit abounds!

Chloé gasps back to life - which, unfortunately, feels like she’s swallowing several thousand glass shards.

She looks around, wildly, trying to figure out what the  _ hell _ happened. She’s no longer Queen Bee - which is  _ less than ideal _ , considering the state of undress she transformed in - instead back to normal and covered in a cheap-but-mercifully-warm quilt, which she quickly wraps around herself. She’s in a  _ horrifically  _ tiny apartment - her suite must be three or four times the size, easy - made to feel even more cramped by the stacks of books and papers lying around, all over.

Chloé winces as she swallows. The Miraculous obviously lessened the extent of her injuries to their most minimal expression, but she can still feel the ghost of Blind-Moth’s killer hair around her neck. Add  _ another  _ potential nightmare to the pile, she supposes.

She spots a mirror nearby - handheld, drug-store bought,  _ clearly  _ on the cheap - and surveys herself. She  _ looks  _ alright - no visible injuries, aside from a slightly reddened neck and,  _ yep _ , some rubble in her hair - but the bags under her eyes and seemingly affixed scowl betray just how  _ miserable _ she’s feeling.

Her hand shoots up to the Bee Miraculous, and takes it off her messed up ponytail, letting her hair down in the process. She holds the silver, inactive comb in her palms, and sighs. Pollen is nowhere to be found - she must  _ really  _ regret choosing her, now. How could she have been so  _ stupid _ ? She had  _ every _ chance to back out of that fight. She can  _ fly _ , for God’s sake! There’s any  _ number _ of other ways she could’ve handled it, stalled for time so Ladybug and/or Cat Noir could get there and actually do their  _ shit _ and  _ beat the damn thing _ . 

But  _ no _ , of  _ course _ not. Blind Date appeared, and before she knew it, she was slinging globs of honey and getting  _ choked to death _ .

Chloé tears up, but grits her teeth, closing her hands around the Miraculous, which stabs into her palms. She made a  _ choice _ , damn it.  _ Absolutely _ , she fucked up. She should’ve heeded Pollen’s warning, and ignored the goddamn Akuma. She’s not the one who gets to track down the bad guy to his lair. She’s never gonna deliver the final blow. 

She’s not the ‘Chosen One’ in this story. 

And you know  _ what _ ? That is fucking  _ A-OK _ by her. If, at the end of the day, all she gets to do is yell ‘Hive Mind!’ the  _ one time  _ they  _ actually _ face and  _ beat  _ that  _ creepy-ass motherfucker  _ into the ground, she’ll die  _ happy _ . 

“Your hair looks nice when it’s down, Chloé.”

The blonde freezes mid-mental rant, and turns, slowly. The stranger is...not a stranger at all, actually.

Caline Bustier came into the apartment - while she was spiraling, she’d guess - and is currently standing before the doorway, holding a bundle of clothes and looking smug in a way one’s teacher never,  _ ever _ should.

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” -Chloé asks, holding the quilt tighter against her body. She glances around the room again, and suddenly, things make a lot more sense; this must be her apartment, and the papers and books must be all of her class’s homework assignments and reading materials. She even spots Rose’s obnoxiously prim hand-writing, with all the little hearts dotting the i’s and j’s, as well as the copy of  _ Pride and Prejudice _ from earlier, complete with the likely culprit behind the wine stain beside it, a cheap merlot she expects came from the same store as the handheld mirror.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I figured you’d still be out by now, but I’m glad that’s not the case.” -Caline offers the clothes to her. “Here. They won’t fit very well, but I imagine _anything’s_ better than your current situation.”

Chloé all but yanks the bundle towards her. The clothes are oddly  _ familiar _ , some torn-up purple leggings she’d  _ never _ choose for herself, and a frayed, pink tank top with a doofy-looking cat print on the chest that’s, like,  _ toddler-sized _ . Mlle. Bustier turns around, and Chloé immediately puts on the garments. The leggings are too long, and the tank top - really, more of an improvised sports bra - is  _ crushing her chest _ , but she at least feels like holding a civilized conversation, now.

“How did I get here? How did I detransform?” -she says, then scowls. “Where’s Pollen?”

“Don’t worry, Pollen went back to your house, to make sure you weren’t being actively searched for. I took your Miraculous off and replaced it after you were saved by Ladybug and Cat Noir.” -she says. “They got there just in time, too. You were very nearly defeated.”

Chloé looks down. “ _ Killed _ , you mean.”

Caline shrugs. “I don’t  _ actually _ know what happens when a Miraculous Holder is fatally wounded while transformed.”

“But you  _ do  _ know what a Miraculous Holder is.” -Chloé notes, confused.

The redhead smirks. “I’m no  _ Guardian _ , but...yes, I do. The Miraculous Jewels, the Kwamis, the Holders...y’know, the basics.”

“And you  _ obviously _ know I’m Queen Bee.”

“Queen Bee, huh? I like it.” -she says. “Let’s say I had my... _ suspicions _ , when you came up to me before class, but I dismissed them as impossible.” -she admits. “I’ve never been happier to be proven wrong.”

Chloé plops down on the couch, shaking her head. “What the  _ hell _ is my life? First I nearly  _ die _ by  _ stone monster _ , then I get superpowers, and now I find out my teacher knows all about this  _ magical destiny bullshit _ .”

“Well, that’s the thing, right? Things tend to... _ converge  _ when you’re dealing with this kind of ‘magical destiny stuff’.” -Caline says, carefully avoiding the curse word. “Why do you think there are so many superheroes in New York?”

The blonde snorts. “ _ Gee _ , I  _ wonder _ . Maybe because there was an  _ alien invasion _ there?”

Caline nods. “And why, then, have three Miraculous Holders appeared in Paris in less than a week?”

Chloé sighs. “...because Hawk Moth is here, and  _ really fucking _ dangerous. I know, I  _ know _ . I get it.”

“I’m glad you do. And I can’t even  _ begin  _ to tell you how  _ proud _ I am of you for choosing to become Queen Bee.” -she says, putting her hands on Chloé’s shoulders. “These gifts can be so easily mismanaged, and you’ve already done admirably as the Bee.”

Chloé blushes briefly, then brusquely steps back, wounded pride getting in the way of genuine affection. “I need to do  _ better _ .” -she says, half determined, and half stubbornly self-loathing. “And  _ you  _ need to explain. How do you know about the Miraculous? How did you know to find me and bring me here?”

Caline offers a faint smile. “Please, sit.”

The blonde huffs, but does as she’s bid. Caline  _ generously  _ pours herself a glass of wine - not in an actual  _ glass _ , mind you, but instead in a  _ presumably _ unwashed coffee cup she takes from a nearby counter - and sighs, heavily. “It’s a  _ long _ story. One I probably  _ shouldn’t _ be telling you at three in the morning on a  _ school night _ , but I wholeheartedly believe you need to know the facts if you’re going to succeed as Queen Bee. I  _ am _ , after all, a  _ teacher _ .”

Chloé rolls her eyes. “Not exactly a  _ normal  _ teacher.”

“Having had  _ extensive _ contact with a world of gods and magic doesn’t preclude one from wanting to improve the lives of others through mundane means.” -she counters. “I may not have my powers anymore, but, in teaching, I’ve found a more than adequate substitute.”

Chloé frowns. “You were a Holder?”

She stares into the bottom of her  _ utterly gross _ wine mug. “I was.”

“What was your Miraculous?”

“I’d rather not say.” -Caline says. Chloé narrows her eyes. “I’m sorry but t’s... _ painful _ , to talk about.  _ Necessary _ , perhaps, but...well, you have Pollen, now. You know all about the bond between a Miraculous Holder and their Kwami.”

Chloé does, for sure; it’s been such a short span of time, but she can’t really imagine going back to a life without Pollen. It’s an  _ understated _ thing, not something they’d necessarily discuss, but there’s certainly a level of intimacy, trust, and, sure,  _ love  _ between the miniature goddess and her all-too-young champion that can never be matched by human relationships. At least, not the kind Chloé has any sort of experience with.

“Yeah...I guess I do.”

The ghost of a smile brushes Caline’s lips, but she leans back into the couch, deep in remembrance. “I found my Miraculous when I was sixteen years old. My Kwami and I never really figured out  _ why _ ; there was no evil to contend with, no real threat to my hometown that we could identify. We weren’t public figures, like Ladybug, Cat Noir, and - I expect, soon enough -  _ you _ . I rarely ever transformed, and when I did, I made sure to act from the shadows, and keep my existence a relative secret. I didn’t fight crime, or rescue people from burning buildings, but I  _ did  _ help. In small ways, little-yet-significant gestures that could help turn a miserable life into one to be content with, even happy.”

“Eventually, I realized I’d run out of people to help - as a superhero, at least. There was no crime to fight, no real problems to solve. So I quit. Began studying to become a teacher, to help in other, potentially more significant ways.”

“I’m guessing there’s a  _ dramatic twist _ in here, somewhere?” -Chloé asks, impatient.

Caline shakes her head, fondly exasperated. “I wouldn’t call it  _ that _ , per se, but...I suppose it might qualify. I fell in love, Chloé, nearing the end of  _ lycée _ , with someone I cared for and trusted  _ so much _ , I eventually decided to reveal my Miraculous to.”

“This sounds like a metaphor for  _ sex _ , Mlle. Bustier.” -Chloé notes, amused.

The redhead chuckles. “‘He who thinks of bread may get hungry’.”

“...what?”

“It’s a saying. Mexican, I believe. Mull it over later, but just know that I,  _ very obviously _ , was talking about my  _ actual _ Miraculous Jewel.” -she says, then all mirth escapes from her face. “And then she took it.”

Several things happen in Chloé’s head at once. There’s a powerful pang of shared grief and solidarity for Caline’s lost Miraculous, a surge of fear at the possibility of it ever happening to Chloé, and complete, utter disbelief that Caline Bustier, the gorgeous young redhead most of the school’s male population, teenaged or otherwise, daydreams about, is a  _ fucking lesbian _ .

“I...you’re…” -Chloé stammers. “You’re into  _ women _ ?”

Caline raises an eyebrow. “I rather prefer the company of people of my own gender, yes. I  _ do _ hope that isn’t a problem. I know that you gave Juleka and Rose some grief over their budding relationship not too long ago.”

Chloé blushes, ashamed. It’s true;  _ everyone _ in class knew that the cripplingly shy Juleka had a massive crush on her childhood best friend. No one expected anything to come of it, given Rose seemed to favor crushing on male celebrities, and Juleka seemed inclined never to actually  _ say _ anything regarding her lingering feelings. 

In all honesty, Chloé could relate to Juleka - no one knows about her own sexual orientation, and she  _ certainly _ never acted on her crush on  _ Dupain-Cheng _ beyond endlessly bickering with her. Maybe  _ that’s  _ why she tore into them, once they came out as queer and in a relationship. Maybe she saw something she couldn’t imagine herself actually having, and figured the best outlet for her frustration was to try and destroy the cause of her jealousy. 

Maybe she’s just, y’know,  _ the worst _ .

“That was stupid. And  _ cruel _ .” -she admits. “Two things I can’t afford to be anymore. Things I don’t  _ want  _ to be, Mlle. Bustier.”

She smirks, knowingly. “Good to know.” -she says. “In any case, my partner  _ seemed _ to take the revelation well. Which made it all the more heartbreaking, when I woke up the next day and discovered she’d stolen my Miraculous and fled into the night.”

Chloé purses her lips. “I’m... _ sorry _ . I can’t imagine how that must’ve felt.”

“I hope you never get to this particular dubious privilege.” -she says, forlorn. “I tried to track her down through my waning link with the Miraculous and my Kwami, but I eventually lost that ability, too. All I knew was that they were hiding somewhere in Paris. I moved here, got a job at  _ François Dupont _ , and spent what little free time being a teacher left me with trying to find my Miraculous.”

The blonde makes the mental count. “So you’ve been here...what, five years?”

“Just about.” -Caline sighs. “When the search turned up no more leads, I threw myself into my work. I’d nearly given up all hope of finding it until this very week.” -she admits. “Imagine my surprise when I saw one Miraculous Holder after another popping up in the news. And my joy, when I discovered one of them was  _ you _ .”

Chloé scoffs. “You keep saying that, but you can’t  _ possibly  _ mean it. It’s one thing for me to promise to be a better person, now that Hawk Moth is preying on us and I have the responsibility of a Miraculous. But you’ve known me long enough to know I did  _ not  _ deserve these powers.”

“I’m sorry, Chloé, but if you’re looking for some kind of confirmation of your own self-doubt, you won’t get it from me.” -Caline says, kind but firm. “You’re young, but you’ve grown a lot more than you realize. I have no doubt you’ll prove just as stalwart a defender of this city and its people as Ladybug and Cat Noir.”

The blonde shakes her head. “Ridiculous.  _ Utterly _ ridiculous.”

“Better get used to it.” -the redhead advises.

“ _ Whatever _ .” -she says, then frowns. “Wait, how did you even  _ find me _ in the first place?”

Caline purses her lips. “I have a certain... _ sensibility _ , for Akumas. Left over from my time as a Miraculous Holder, I’d wager.”

“I thought you said you’d lost your powers.”

“It’s a 99.9% kind of deal.” -she explains. “Becoming a Holder  _ changes _ you,  _ forever _ . I may not be able to access the full power I used to wield, but I retained a few...side effects, I suppose. The Akuma passed me by and I could  _ feel _ it, so I tried to follow it to the source, or in this case, to its  _ victim _ \- we’re only a couple blocks away from the site of your battle. I also retained  _ just _ enough strength to carry you back here.”

Chloé nods, mulling over the new information. She wonders, briefly, how she’ll be changed as the Bee Holder. God forbid she ends up  _ sweating honey _ , or some shit. Being able to sense Akumas  _ would _ be nice, though she can’t even... _ do _ that...as Queen Bee…

Oh.  _ Oh _ . 

Chloé thinks she knows  _ exactly _ what Mlle. Bustier’s Miraculous used to be. Chloé can’t even  _ imagine  _ how pissed off she’d be if a terrorist were to use Pollen to harm innocent people. 

The blonde nods to herself. She was  _ obviously _ already willing to fight, but now she gets to fight on behalf of someone she cares about. Not that she doesn’t  _ care _ about the faceless parisian masses, of course, but Mlle. Bustier has  _ always _ been there for her - today being the prime example. She doesn’t know what Ladybug plans to do with the Butterfly Miraculous once they Hawk Moth is defeated, but she hopes she gets to hand it back to its rightful owner afterwards.

Pollen chooses that moment to phase into the room through a window, making a beeline for her Chosen and tackle-hugging Chloé’s face - which feels kinda like getting pelted with a marshmallow. Chloé cups the Kwami against her cheek, feeling the warmth return to her body.

“I’m so glad you’re ok, Chloé!” -she squeaks out.

“Just...getting there.” -she admits. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I fucked up,  _ hard _ .”

Pollen pats the tip of her nose. “None of that, now. We are here, and we are together.  _ That’s  _ what matters.”

“Was anyone looking for her?” -Caline asks.

Chloé snorts. As  _ if _ . “No one.” -the Kwami reports.

The redhead crosses her arms, frowning. “I... _ guess  _ that’s good.”

“I live in the hotel’s penthouse, all by myself.” -Chloé explains. “No one would  _ dare _ look for me until it’s time to get up for school.”

Caline nods, but she still looks a bit worried. “You should probably leave. I'm  _ assuming  _ you’re not planning on ditching class tomorrow.”

Chloé rolls her eyes at the teacher’s pointed looks. “I’ll be there. In body, if not in... _ awakeness _ .”

“ _ Wakefulness _ , Chloé.” -Caline automatically corrects. Chloé barely resists the urge to flip her off. “I’ll be sure to go easy on you tomorrow. And... _ please _ , whatever you need,  _ tell me _ . Unless you somehow figure out Ladybug or Cat Noir’s identity, you’re stuck with me as the one person who can best help you with this crazy superhero stuff.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” -Chloé says. “And... _ thanks _ , for saving me.”

Caline smiles as the blonde calls for Pollen to transform her, as genuinely as ever. Chloé exits squeezes out of the window, and flies into the night sky. Her mentor watches her leave, bursting with pride. “Oh, Chloé. I’m sure you’ll be saving  _ us _ , before long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to the user mintyrest, who accurately predicted Miss Bustier had a rather important role to play in this story! As the former Butterfly Miraculous Holder, she'll have a special interest in seeing Hawk Moth defeated...and a fair bit of experience to impart upon our fledgling bee-themed superhero.


	6. Storm Warning, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the first half of this two-part chapter, Chloé is, rather unfortunately, assigned to work for an entire month beside Marinette by a well-meaning Miss Bustier. The blonde is less than enthused at the prospect, especially when the brunette's flawless work ethic clashes with her own, laissez-faire one.
> 
> To make matters worse, their first meeting places Chloé deep in enemy territory - none other than the Dupain-Cheng bakery, in which she's not exactly welcome by at least half of the baking duo...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I've mentioned or clarified this before, but Marinette is a brunette, with extremely dark brown/black hair. Tikki turns her hair a vibrant, royal blue as Ladybug, the same color as the Kwami's eyes. I'm pretty sure I've seen this elsewhere, but I'm rather fond of that concept, so I included it!

Marinette stands beside her, awkward as all hell, as people begin to lazily file out of Mlle. Bustier’s classroom. Chloé purposefully ignores the anxious brunette, slowly scrolling through her texts - perhaps a few days earlier, circa Blind Date, she might’ve been a  _ bit  _ more receptive, but today has been... _ disheartening _ , to say the least. The absolute  _ last _ thing she needs is  _ Dupain-Cheng _ continuing her ongoing, likely Bustier-enabled crusade of  _ cordiality _ and  _ friendship _ towards her.

“So...Chloé, would you like to wait for me here, or at the bakery?” -Marinette asks, uncertain, after a minute of seemingly eternal,  _ excruciating  _ silence. “I promised Alya I’d help her make some support signs for that weather girl contest thing happening tonight.”

The blonde glares at her. “The assignment isn’t due for a  _ month _ , Dupain-Cheng. I have absolutely  _ no _ intention of starting it today. Or tomorrow.  _ Or _ the day after, really.”

Marinette frowns. “Chloé, you heard Mlle. Bustier. We need to present evidence of our progress by the end of the week, and it’s a  _ really _ intensive project.”

“Oh, I  _ heard _ her. This is me,  _ not  _ caring.” -Chloé says, pointing at her scowl. She’s made a mistake in turning, though, as she can now plainly see Marinette’s genuinely troubled expression. She sighs, knowing herself defeated. “ _ Look _ . I know you’ve got a rhythm, or a schedule, or  _ whatever _ , but  _ I _ just  _ can’t _ focus on  _ this _ kind of shit unless I’m  _ hours  _ away from needing it done. Talk to me thursday, and  _ then  _ we’ll see.”

Marinette seems to understand, but she insists. “Let’s at  _ least _ meet up and divide the work. You can do your half on your  _ own  _ time, and I can fit the rest into that  _ pesky schedule _ of mine.”

Chloé groans. “Is this  _ really _ necessary?”

“ _ Yes _ .” -Marinette breathes out. “Chloé, I work quarter-shifts at the bakery, I babysit  _ most _ afternoons, and I have a half dozen ongoing personal projects I can’t ever seem to finish on  _ top  _ of all the schoolwork. I  _ need _ to have this peace of mind.  _ Please _ .” -she pleads - hands clasped together, puppy eyes, trembling lip, the works.

The blonde grits her teeth. “ _ Fine _ . I’ll go to the bakery and wait for you there.” -she allows. “ _ Don’t _ be late.”

Marinette nods, ecstatic. “I’ll be there! Have a croissant on me, alright?” -she says, then bolts out towards the arts and crafts room, presumably. Chloé rises, all but tossing her phone into her bag, which causes Pollen to quietly yelp in surprise. The Kwami  _ probably _ shouldn’t make any noise - and it’s not like she can be hurt by any mortal means, anyway - but the last person in the room is Mlle. Bustier, whom Chloé angrily stomps towards.

“Why the  _ hell  _ did you do that?” -Chloé hisses out.

Caline puts down her wine-stained novel,  _ way  _ more patient than any teacher should be with  _ that _ kind of attitude. “Do what, Chloé?”

“ _ Why _ did you pair me up with  _ Marinette  _ of all people for this work assignment!?”

The redhead raises an eyebrow. “I intended for the pairings to be randomized...”

Chloé scoffs, cutting her off. “Yeah,  _ right _ . Which is why Adrien got to be with his new friend, Nino, Alix gets to work with Nathanael, and Rose gets to do it with Juleka. I’m not an  _ idiot _ ,  _ Mademoiselle _ .”

“No, but you  _ are _ in need of a partner.” -Caline reminds her. “One who can both complement your particular talents, and challenge you to improve upon them,  _ and  _ yourself. As I was saying, I  _ intended _ for the pairs to be random, but decided you could stand to gain  _ much _ from partnering with Marinette.”

“I  _ had _ a partner. Just because Sabrina  _ abandoned  _ me doesn’t mean I need a replacement -  _ especially  _ one I can barely stand.” -Chloé spits out.

Caline’s eyes soften. “Chloé, we  _ just _ talked about this. Sabrina didn’t  _ abandon _ you. Her father requested she be suspended - allowed to be absent for some time, until he can determine whether  _ François Dupont _ is safe for her to continue attending. He  _ is  _ the city’s chief of police, after all.”

Chloe growls in frustration. “The _school!? Paris_ isn’t safe! Not while that _madman_ is still at large. It doesn’t _matter _what school she goes to, Hawk Moth can get to _anyone_, _anywhere_ in the city.” -she rants. “And it’s _not_ like that _stupid-ass_ reason explains why she won’t answer my texts or calls. She just...doesn’t want _anything _to do with me anymore.” -Chloé concludes, depressingly.

“I can’t deny that. Not for sure, not without having talked about it with Sabrina.” -Caline admits. “But _you_ can’t, either. Maybe she needs some time away from you. Maybe, yeah, she would even rather cut ties with you, for good.” -she says. “But have you considered the possibility that seeing you, _her_ _best friend_, nearly _die_ at the hands of Stoneheart may have proven a traumatic experience for her? I know it did for _me_.”

Chloé looks at Mlle. Bustier’s earnest, vibrant teal eyes. “I... _ really? _ ”

“I hate that this seems to come as a surprise, but some of us  _ genuinely  _ care for you, Chloé.” -she says. “And I can tell you for a fact that  _ nobody _ in this class wanted that horrific occasion to be your end. Not Marinette, not me...and  _ certainly _ not Sabrina.”

Chloé hesitates, but ultimately shakes her head. “I’m  _ sorry _ . I can’t... _ hope  _ like that. I  _ can’t _ deal with not knowing, so until I  _ actually  _ hear from Sabrina’s mouth that she  _ doesn’t  _ hate me...I have to assume we’re dead to each other.”

Caline sighs. “That’s  _ your _ call, Chloé, and I’ll respect it. But this is  _ exactly _ why I paired you up with Marinette - with someone who can see your potential the same way I can.” -she says. “Just...give it a try, alright? If you two  _ definitely _ can’t make it work, come to me and we’ll figure something out. But if you could  _ just _ make an effort...I believe you two can make something  _ amazing  _ happen,  _ together _ .”

The blonde cringes. “...are we still talking about the assignment,  _ Mademoiselle _ ?”

“But of  _ course _ , Chloé.” -she says, a sly smirk invading her expression. “Whyever would you think otherwise?”

* * *

Chloé stares up at the rather large building, upon whose base sits Tom and Sabine’s  _ Boulangerie et Patisserie _ . 12  _ Rue _ Gotlib is a  _ hell  _ of a location, and a  _ supremely  _ lucky get for Marinette’s family - it’s a five minute walk from one of Paris’s most prestigious high schools, at the intersection of two major streets, and in full view of the  _ goddamn Eiffel Tower _ .  _ Any _ entrepreneur with cash to burn would  _ kill  _ for the chance to buy the place up, but, through some fluke of destiny, Marinette’s parents were able to buy the entire, three-stories-and-change building for  _ peanuts _ ,  _ just _ after getting married - and disowned by three quarters of Marinette’s grandparents, if she recalls correctly.

...Chloé pays attention to the  _ gossip _ at Daddy’s events, if nothing else.  _ Especially  _ when it  _ just so happens _ to concern Marinette’s life - which happens more often than you’d think - not that she’d ever admit it.

In any case, the place has grown from a tiny, dinky little  _ baguette shop _ to one of the city’s most prestigious - and  _ busy  _ \- bakeries, famous around the City of Lights for its incomparably delicious, authentically homemade confections...or so Chloé has heard, since she outright  _ refuses _ to try anything from the Dupain-Cheng store.

Yeah. It’s  _ that  _ bad.

It takes considerable effort, but Chloé finally manages to gather her wits and enter enemy territory. She’s immediately  _ assaulted _ , then, with a  _ plethora  _ of incredibly rich aromas - decadent butter, delectable fresh fruits, and that  _ deliciously  _ burning sensation that can only be experienced when smelling food with unhealthy amounts of sugar within. She feels like a kid again, a six year old tot running into the  _ Grand Paris _ ’s kitchens every evening at seven for her ‘princess tribute’ - a sample of every dessert prepared for dinner at the hotel’s restaurant. She hardly ever stops by the kitchens now, and when she does, it’s usually to berate the poor staff over  _ whatever _ part of her food irked her on that particular day.

She hasn’t done that since Pollen and the Miraculous, but  _ God _ , is there  _ anyone _ in Paris she hasn’t slighted in one way or another?

The bakery is quite busy, even at a time that’s not  _ exactly  _ bread-getting rush hour. She can quickly identify a half dozen tourists - perks of living in a hotel - and three likely employees grabbing a quick bite before they must return to work. The store’s layout is kind of like a horseshoe, with everything from flamboyant birthday cakes to the small, personal pieces of american bread to the sides. The center is, of course, dominated by the more traditional french pastries, in the form of filled  _ croissants _ , chocolate  _ éclairs _ , and  _ religieuses _ , the shelves flanked by bucketfuls of baguettes.

Of course, the crown jewels are right by the register - macarons in every color you could imagine, temptingly displayed in orderly, rapidly depleting rows following the sequence of the rainbow.

Chloé’s mouth waters, in spite of her refusal. It’s too much, and not enough at the same time - and  _ almost  _ enough to make her cave, swallow her pride, and finally eat some of the Dupain-Chengs’ confections, but she manages to avoid diving for her purse. She’s so focused on resisting, though, that she almost crashes into none other than Adrien, fully decked out in what appears to be fencing gear and carrying a small, ornate paper bag filled with what he’s apparently purchased.

“Chloé!” -he says, jovially. “It’s so good to see you.”

The blonde smirks, despite herself. Chloé’s never  _ actually  _ ridden a bike before, but the saying still applies; friendship with Adrien comes naturally to her, even if they  _ barely  _ acknowledged each other’s existence for the past five years or so. She greets him with a cheek kiss. “Well of  _ course _ it is, I’m  _ me _ . What are  _ you _ doing outside that  _ fortress  _ you call a home?”

The Agreste heir rubs the back of his head. “ _ Hah _ , Father really  _ did _ go overboard with the security upgrades, didn’t he?”

“I would not be surprised if your old man had had  _ lasers  _ installed on the roof.” -she says, sardonic, then smiles, more genuinely this time. “Seriously though, it’s like, a  _ miracle _ to see you outside of class, Adrien.”

Adrien points at his chest piece. “I took up fencing classes, starting this week.” -he says, then leans forward, conspiratorially. “It’s the  _ one _ after school activity I could convince my Father to let me do, so you  _ know _ I jumped at the chance to get rid of my cabin fever a bit.”

“Which I  _ get _ , but did the illustrious Gabriel Agreste  _ approve _ of the lipid-carb  _ bomb _ you’ve got there?” -she asks, nodding teasingly at his tasty purchase.

The teen snorts. “It’s within the ‘ _ nutrition budget _ ’, if that’s what you mean. I happen to be a growing boy whose physical activity has just increased  _ exponentially _ thanks to the noble sport of fencing.”

“Poking each other with pointy sticks  _ does _ sound  _ oh _ ,  _ so  _ exhausting.”

“I hope  _ Monsieur _ D’Argencourt never listens to you talk about that way about his sacred discipline.” -Adrien retorts, laughter in his eyes. “I barely know the man, but I’m  _ pretty _ sure he’d skewer you, like, for real.”

Chloé doesn’t doubt it -  _ Collége Dupont _ ’s master fencer just so happens to be Mayor Bourgeois’s bitter political ‘rival’, in the sense that he is  _ usually _ the other name on the ballot that absolutely _ nobody _ picks. Chloé knows her Daddy isn’t  _ exactly  _ the world’s most honest politician - talk about an oxymoron - but he shouldn’t even need to cheat against Armand D’Argencourt, known throughout Paris for his unhinged rants regarding his ancestors’ supposed rule over the city, and how  _ good _ it would be for France to regress some eight hundred years or so, to the values of medieval times.

“He  _ is _ kind of a nutjob.” -Chloé concludes.

Adrien shrugs. “So long as he buys me freedom, I won’t complain.” -he says. “So, are you here for a treat?”

Chloé rolls her eyes. “ _ Please _ . I’m only here because Bustier  _ had _ to pair me up with  _ Dupain-Cheng _ . She told me to wait for her here so we could split up the work. Can you believe it?”

“That  _ does  _ sound sensible.” -Adrien says, oblivious. “I’m glad I get to work with Nino, but I’m kinda jealous of you. Marinette seems so  _ cool _ , I bet you’ll have a great time working with her.”

The blonde blinks a couple times. Not just from the utterly  _ ridiculous _ statement, but because Adrien’s cheeks have gone a bit... _ rosy _ . “Oh my  _ God _ . Adrien Agreste, are you  _ crushing _ on Marinette?”

Adrien immediately panics. “Wh-  _ no _ ! Chloé, we’re barely even  _ friends _ . I don’t know her that well at  _ all _ .”

“My accusation  _ stands, Adrikins _ .” -she says, a smug grin on her face. “Have you  _ already  _ joined the  _ rest  _ of the classroom, fawning at  _ pretty little  _ Marinette’s feet?”

He shakes his head. “I will not be confirming or denying anything at this time.” -he recites, from the Child Celebrity Handbook, but the small smile and reddened cheeks betray him. “But...well, she  _ is _ rather beautiful. And dedicated. And responsible…”

“...and creative, and pretty, and outspoken, and  _ pretty _ , and  _ basically a saint _ , and...did I mention  _ pretty _ ?” -she asks, rhetorically. “ _ Trust _ me, I’ve heard them all before. So y’know...good luck with the competition, buddy.”

He smirks. “I’ll keep that in mind.” -he says, then sighs. “Sorry, I really  _ should _ leave, already. Wouldn’t want Father taking away my ‘walking in the sunlight’ privileges.”

Chloé scowls. “I  _ swear _ , one of these days…” -she says, all but imagining herself as Queen Bee, knocking down the gates to the Agreste mansion with naught but a light punch.

“Yeah, I know.” -he says. “Me too.”

Adrien offers one last smile, sadder than any of the others, and leaves the store, which has nearly emptied by now.

Leaving her, of course, alone with its owners.

Tom Dupain is a  _ large _ man. He must be nearly seven feet tall, and four or five wide - he was a strongman competitor, in his youth, if The Gossip is to be believed. He’s a bit more rotund than you’d expect a former sports... _ person _ to be, but that’s likely just down to his occupation. His mustache is immaculately trimmed, but covered in flour, the same as his arms and apron, which also sports some faded, colorful stains. Chloé’s seen the man many times, as he typically caters for events at the  _ Grand Paris _ , and he’s never  _ once _ looked like he  _ isn’t _ having the time of his life. She finds that  _ incredibly annoying _ , but also...a little endearing, and a  _ lot  _ enviable. Chloé  _ truly  _ cannot imagine herself ever being that happy.

Sabine Cheng, on the other hand, is a stoic, much more reserved woman, whose smiles are practiced for customers and rarely handed out to anyone but her beloved husband and daughter. Rumor has it she was once a  _ karateka _ , and quite a competitive one at that, but meeting the big lug she’d eventually marry must’ve  _ completely _ changed her life. She’s the immediate face of the business, the brains behind the operation, and Chloé’s pretty sure the comparatively tiny woman  _ hates _ her guts.

“Sabine, do my eyes deceive me?” -Tom asks, ecstatic. “Is that Mayor Bourgeois’s daughter?”

The woman seems rather less enthused. “Chloé? What an unexpected pleasure.” -she says. It comes out a  _ bit _ forced, which does  _ not _ bode well. Chloé is already regretting not waiting on Marinette.

“ _ Hi _ .” -she manages to squeak out.

Tom seems like he’s won the lottery. “Oh, I  _ knew _ you couldn’t resist our baking forever!” -he says. “What would you like? Pick anything, it’s on the house!”

“Dear, you’re not letting the poor girl get a word in edgewise.” -she chides.

“I...Marinette mentioned a croissant…” -she mutters, nervous, then shakes her head. “ _ Nevermind _ . I’m just...waiting on your daughter. We have a  _ dumb _ , month-long project to do, and she wanted to meet up here to plan it out.”

The baker seems to have stopped hearing her after ‘ _ croissant’ _ . He bolts towards the kitchen yelling behind him. “Don’t even touch those, they’re from this morning! You’re in luck! The next batch comes out in five minutes!”

Fucking... _ of course _ . Now she’s alone with the martial artist. In an empty store with opaque windows. She  _ knew _ it was a bad idea to come here, but she expected to at least  _ survive _ the visit.

Mental dramatizations or not, Sabine’s smile fades, almost as soon as Tom leaves. “I must admit, I’m rather surprised.”

“About what?” -Chloé manages.

“I would’ve thought you’d have your father veto the very  _ notion _ of working with my daughter, let  _ alone _ for such a long assignment.”

Chloé’s stomach has never dropped further. “I...Mlle. Bustier thought Marinette and I could... _ benefit _ , from working with each other.”

Sabine hums. “I suppose I will need to have a talk with  _ Mademoiselle _ Bustier, then.” -she says, frigid. “I can plainly see how  _ you _ might... _ improve _ , if by nothing else than sheer osmosis, just from being around my Marinette. But I  _ can’t  _ fathom how on  _ Earth  _ her life would be impacted in  _ any  _ positive way by forcing her to work with the  _ bully _ she’s spilled so many tears over.”

_ God _ .  _ Fuck _ . It’s...really like that, huh? Not that Chloé has any right to complain, of course. That’s a  _ harshly  _ accurate summary of the person she used to be, after all, not even two weeks back. The person she  _ still _ would be, if she hadn’t gotten disturbingly acquainted with near-death experiences. But... _ wow _ , hearing that from an adult, from a  _ mother _ , has effectively broken her heart in one of the worst ways since her own mother abandoned her. It’s raw, and  _ venomous _ , and Sabine Cheng has  _ every _ right to say it.

“I...I know.” -Chloé says, miraculously holding back tears. “I’m so,  _ so _ sorry.”

“I hope you didn’t come here expecting forgiveness, because I have none for you. Marinette might, but I am  _ not  _ as good a person as she is.”

Chloé nods solemnly. “I understand.”

The woman narrows her eyes, disbelieving. “Let me make sure by saying this: if you  _ ever _ harm my daughter again, in any way, shape, or form, I will do my  _ utmost _ to make sure your life becomes  _ insufferable _ . I don’t care  _ who  _ your father is, and I don’t care what your  _ tragic backstory  _ might’ve been. You  _ hurt  _ my baby, and the  _ only _ reason I’ve not done anything about it is because of  _ her _ intercession.”

The blonde sniffles into her jacket sleeve. “I promise, I’ll  _ never _ do anything like it again.”

Sabine evaluates her for a moment, then seems satisfied - or at least, as satisfied as she could be by Chloé’s promise. Tom comes out of the kitchen, completely oblivious to the animosity in the room. “Ta-da! Fresh croissants for the lovely young lady!” -he says, presenting a platter filled with the pastries. “Take your pick!”

Marinette’s mother gives her one last menacing look before she puts on her seller’s façade again. “Just be careful not to burn yourself, dear!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things worth talking about here; obviously, Sabine isn't *quite* this frosty in canon, but I thought about what my response as a parent would be in her situation, and though I probably wouldn't be as...murderous? Well, as *intense* about it, I would definitely be this kind of cold towards Chloé.
> 
> This takes place just prior to this universe's version of the Stormy Weather akuma event! It'll be fun to throw Queen Bee at that particular disaster, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> And of course, you may or may not have noticed that the so-called Love Square functions...a bit differently in this fic...


	7. Storm Warning, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette is, of course, much too perceptive for Chloe's own good. 
> 
> Stormy Weather makes her debut, and Paris trembles before the walking, talking natural disaster. But so does Queen Bee - even through the harsh realities of saving civilians, and the worries of her fellow heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning in this one for blood and not-too-descriptive injuries. Akuma-based collateral damage is no joke in this fic, people.

Marinette’s room - well, less of a _room_ and more of an _attic with a personality_ \- couldn’t be more different to Chloé’s. It’s a _mess_, for one, with just about every surface covered in fabric, sewing equipment, used clothes, and various art supplies. Chloé isn’t a particularly _tidy_ person, but she at _least_ puts her precious clothes away - and y’know, the hotel staff deals with the rest. This chaos is just about the _opposite _she expected from _Little Miss_ _Perfect_. 

Pollen pops out from her hiding place, much more brazenly than the Kwami should. “Oh,  _ wow _ , what  _ is _ this place?”

“Marinette’s room.” -Chloé says, frowning. “And  _ not  _ a safe place for you to be out and about.”

The Kwami giggles. “But can’t you  _ feel  _ it? I feel so  _ invigorated  _ here!”

Chloé raises an eyebrow and closes her eyes. There’s... _ something _ , but it’s not the  _ room _ , she doesn’t think. It’s a pleasant hum at the base of her skull, an invisible string that  _ definitely  _ wasn’t there before. She tries to... _ tug  _ on it, for lack of a better word, but she can’t quite reach it, so she opts to ignore it. Probably some kind of residual effect from turning into Queen Bee.

“Yeah, I have  _ no _ idea what you’re talking about.” -she says.

Pollen tilts her head, then shrugs. “Maybe it’s a Kwami thing?”

Chloé hums, unsatisfied. She looks around the room some more, and notes an interesting spot, just beside Marinette’s bed, covered in posters and photographs. She walks up to it, and examines the mementos. 

The wall can be described as an explosion of  _ color _ and  _ friendship _ , so it’s  _ decidedly  _ not Chloé’s cup of tea. There’s a section for music, with a faded Jagged Stone poster, some crumpled up tickets, and pictures of Marinette and her father at a concert, looking all sweaty and cramped but living life at the fullest; opposite that is a travel section, with even more tickets and photos of a usually tiny Marinette all over Europe, and even in what looks to be a chinese city. The rest is a veritable  _ smorgasbord _ of selfies -  _ finally _ , something they have in common - group photos, and other such memorabilia. Pictures of Marinette in her bed, staring at the ceiling, or out with friends at the movie theater, and even a more recent one - from last June, Chloé assumes - of her, Juleka, Rose, and Nathanael at Paris Pride, covered in rainbows of both cloth and paint.

Chloé racks her head, trying to remember if she has pictures of anyone but herself in her room. She comes up empty.

And then she sees the  _ newest _ image - can’t be more than a couple weeks old, logically speaking. It’s Marinette and Adrien, all blushy and awkward, posing together for a selfie that has  _ no right  _ being as cute and mushy as it is. 

Well, _no_ _fucking wonder_ Adrien got so flustered at her teasing. 

Chloé’s not sure how to feel about this newfound knowledge. There’s that very familiar jealousy, at the thought of her - former? - archenemy bonding with her - also former? - best friend in a way she never could, despite their respective fathers’ _very_ _obvious_ and _very weird_ attempts at setting them up to be an item one day. There’s also a sort of quiet grief, at the thought of not being close enough to Adrien that he could confide in her beyond her teasing. And finally...a sort of strange _kinship_, with Marinette. Chloé knows the brunette well, and she just _knows_ Marinette will be one of the very few people who’ll ever be able to see past the handsome teen model, the charming celebrity - beyond the heir to the Agreste fashion empire. She’ll be able to get to know the quiet dork with the cheeky grin, behind which hides a crippling fear of isolation. The boy spitting out puns to cover up for the fact that he’s still just a scared little kid missing his mother, at heart.

It’s... _ complicated _ , and that’s not even considering her own - albeit  _ mostly _ extinguished - feelings for the girl.

“What is it?” -Pollen asks, curiously staring at the picture board.

Chloé sighs. “A glaring reminder of how much I’ve  _ fucked up _ in recent years, apparently.” -she says, bitter. “I never imagined my best friend and my biggest rival would ever be  _ friends _ , let alone... _ whatever _ it is they are now. I should  _ know  _ this, Pollen. Adrien would’ve told me, in another time. But I didn’t fight to keep his friendship, and I couldn’t  _ get over myself _ with Marinette, so _ this  _ is how I find out.”

Pollen hums. “They seem happy. Is that not something to celebrate?”

“...I wish I could say yes.”

The Kwami attempts to console her by rubbing up against her temple, then dives back into her ponytail. Knowing what’s coming, Chloé turns as the trapdoor to the room opens, revealing a red faced and huffing Marinette.

“You’re  _ late _ .” -Chloé remarks with a huff.

“It’s  _ my house _ , I can be as late as I wanna be.” -Marinette says, but her tone is snarking. “Sorry, Chloé. The signs took a little longer to make than I thought they would. Alya’s... _ kind  _ of a chatterbox.”

The blonde rolls her eyes. “ _ Whatever _ . Why have you become a  _ sweaty tomato _ ?”

“Well, I mean, I  _ ran _ all the way here.” -she says, as if it should be obvious. “Since I was so  _ late _ and everything.”

To be fair, that  _ is  _ obvious. Chloé’s just having a  _ bit _ of a hard time finding things to say.

She wrinkles her nose and plucks a moist towelette from her purse, throwing it at the brunette, who fumbles it and gets to pick it off the floor. “Yeah, well...it’s  _ gross _ , so freshen up.”

Marinette laughs, but complies with her demands. “You’re so  _ delicate _ , Chloé. You would  _ not _ have survived in this household.”

“You don’t say.” -she says, scowling, thinking of her fearsome encounter with  _ Madame _ Cheng. 

“Yeah, working in  _ papa _ ’s kitchen  _ alone  _ would’ve ended you.” -Marinette continues. “To say nothing of  _ maman _ ’s morning yoga routines.”

“Sounds like  _ torture _ .” -she deadpans.

Marinette shrugs. “You learn to love it.” -she says.

“ _ Uh-huh _ . Let’s just get this over with. I have a whole lot of  _ doing nothing _ to get back to.”

“ _ Right _ . So, we need to put together a presentation on mental illness across literature - how it’s portrayed, how characters who have it deal with it, how the people who surround them treat it.”

“I’m aware.”

“Have you gotten any examples yet, then?”

“Of  _ course  _ not. I  _ told _ you, I can’t do any sort of homework unless it’s  _ actually _ urgent.” -Chloé says, exasperated.

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “To be honest, I always thought Sabrina just...did your homework for you. That’s what you used to say, Chloé.”

The blonde scoffs. “_Jesus_ _Christ_, Marinette. Do you _really_ think Bustier could’ve been fooled for so long? I’m not _happy _about it, but I _do _actually put in _some _work.”

“Then why lie and brag about it?”

“Because it grinds your gears,  _ Dupain-Cheng _ . You  _ know _ you can’t resist calling me out with one of your little  _ impassioned speeches _ .” -Chloé says, smug. 

Marinette rolls her eyes, but there’s a fondness to it. “That  _ does _ sound like us.”

“ _ Don’t _ read into it. I fuck with everyone.”

The brunette offers a cheeky smile. “ _ Aww _ . And here I thought we had something  _ special _ .”

Despite how much she tries not to, Chloé still blushes a little. “You  _ wish _ .”

“Do I?”

“Who  _ wouldn’t _ ? I’m rich, gorgeous,  _ and  _ smart. The whole package, really.”

“Not to mention  _ humble _ .” -Marinette remarks, sarcastic.

Chloé flicks her ponytail, though she’s careful not to do so forcefully and pelt Pollen out of her hiding place. “ _ Obviously _ .”

Marinette ponders something for a second. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Would a  _ ‘no’ _ even stop you, Marinette?” -Chloé asks, sneering.

“ _ Yes _ .” -Marinette says, earnestly. 

Chloé blinks, taken aback. “Er... _ whatever _ . Just ask.”

“Well, it’s just...you’re not wrong. You’d be  _ quite _ the catch for anyone willing to ignore or work with your, er... _ attitude _ .” -she admits. “But you’ve never dated anyone, at least that I know of - and not for a lack of suitors. We both know Kim’s been into you  _ forever _ .”

The blonde instinctively shrinks into herself a little. Yes, she’s  _ painfully _ aware of the jock’s crush on her. Yes, she’s done her absolute best - or, arguably, her  _ worst  _ \- to discourage it. “You  _ really _ think I would date  _ anyone  _ but the absolute  _ best _ ?”

“No, I don’t.” -Marinette allows. “But...well, I also don’t think you’d date Kim if he  _ was  _ the best person out there.”

Chloé frowns. “What are you  _ implying _ , Marinette?”

The brunette looks at her. “...maybe nothing. But...well, I know what it’s like to hide a  _ really _ important part of yourself. How  _ limiting _ that can be. I know we’ve rarely seen eye to eye on...pretty much  _ everything _ , but if you ever need to talk things out, I’m game.”

Chloé’s lip trembles a little. Is she _that_ obvious? “Don’t give me this _vague_ _bullshit_. Say what you really mean, or _shut it_.” -she challenges.

Marinette sighs. “Chloé, I’m not  _ blind _ . I’ve seen the way you look at me. At other people - other  _ girls _ . And maybe I’m  _ wrong _ , but if I’m  _ right _ , I wanted you to know you have  _ someone  _ to talk to about it. Someone who gets it.”

Chloé’s instinct is to vehemently deny everything. “I am  _ not _ \- ” -she hotly begins, but then she sees Marinette’s expression - the  _ knowing  _ in her eyes, the  _ understanding _ \- and she realizes there’s absolutely no point in pretending. “ _ Fuck _ .” -she whispers. “I swear to  _ God _ , Marinette, if you so much as  _ say my name _ in that little queer club of yours, I will  _ end  _ you.”

It feels like this should be a greater moment. Like this secret of hers should’ve come out - pun intended - at a moment of life or death, at the climax of her story. But, like her supporting role as Queen Bee, it seems like all it takes is a moment of simple honesty between former antagonists. Marinette  _ knows _ \-  _ has _ known, it seems, for quite some time - and Chloé doesn’t know quite what to make of this. Probably won’t, for a while.

“There’s no need for any of that, Chloé.” -Marinette softly reassures her. “This is  _ your _ secret to keep, and there’s absolutely no obligation for you to do anything about it. I just wanted you to know I’m here to help.”

Chloé buries her face in her hands. “ _ Fuck me _ . This is just  _ perfect _ .” -Chloé mumbles, then looks up, tears threatening to spill. The room seems to darken, as if to match her mood. “First you mother basically threatens my life, and now  _ this _ ? I should  _ never  _ have come here.”

As if to punctuate her statement, a bone-shaking  _ boom _ resounds across Paris. Chloé instinctively ventures out onto Marinette’s balcony, and the vista horrifies her; the sky has turned a menacing bronze color, and a sizable explosion can be seen in the distance, sprouting from the impact site of a massive violet lightning bolt. Several others strike across the city, all emanating from a tiny, dark figure - one that’s quickly approaching.

“It’s an Akuma.” -Chloé says, her whole demeanor instantly shifting as Queen Bee begins to take over. She doesn’t even look back at Marinette. “You need to  _ run _ .”

Another explosion, much closer now, almost topples them over. Some of Marinette’s knick-knacks fall to the floor, shattering on impact.

Chloé turns. Marinette looks worried, but not particularly  _ scared _ . The little bit of old Chloé in her brain can’t help but be disgusted. Of  _ course _ she’d be brave, on top of everything else she is. Chloé shakes her head - the Akuma is closing in, and it really  _ is  _ making a beeline towards them. “Go, get out of here!”

“ _ Me!? _ What about you!?”

“I’ll be  _ fine _ .” -she says, but it’s hard to sound convincing when you can’t explain  _ why _ . “Go find your parents and get the  _ hell _ out of here.”

Marinette firmly refuses. “I am  _ not  _ leaving you behind.”

The brunette reaches for her, but Chloé slaps her hand away, frustrated. “ _ Goddamn it _ . You better keep your  _ fucking mouth shut _ about this, too” -she hisses.

Pollen’s gonna be  _ pissed _ , but there’s no choice. The Akuma - a lady in a purple-black sundress, wielding a parasol she’s using to wreck everything in her path - is almost on top of them, and callously aiming the makeshift weapon precisely at her.

Chloé brusquely tackles Marinette back into the room. “ ** _Pollen_ ** ,  ** _Buzz On!_ ** ” -she yells, and feels the golden glow envelop and empower her, just in time for her to hastily erect and solidify a curtain of honey around them. Lightning crashes against it, and everything becomes a blur of noise, heat, electricity, and flying, incandescent bits of room. Chloé doesn’t even know how it happened, but she’s curled up protectively around the brunette, almost crushing her with the Bee’s prodigious strength.

She looks down. The girl in her arms  _ seems  _ fine, but her eyes are closed and she feels slack against her grip. Fearing the worst, Chloé gingerly sets her down, but the brunette immediately stirs, dazed. 

There’s no time to deal with her revealed identity, so she doesn’t even try to talk; Chloé’s luminous wings sprout into existence and she leaps out into the smoking streets. She’s torn; should she strike at the akumatized villain, or focus on helping civilians? Experience tells her that she should leave the Akuma to the heroes actually meant to take it on, but perhaps she could curtail its destruction for a little while...

Fortunately, half of Paris’ dynamic duo answers the question for her. Cat Noir zips by her, dashing through the rooftops like it’s no more effort than a light jog. He draws his baton, wields it like a sword, and strikes at the flying woman, sending her careening into the asphalt with enough force to form a crater and shower the street in bits of rubble.

Cat Noir lands near her, his messy blond locks practically flowing in the quickly intensifying wind. “Well, now I feel  _ entirely _ outnumbered.” -he says, airily. “Three bugs and only one little feline? That’s  _ pawsitively _ unfair.”

“Save your puns for Ladybug,  _ furball _ .” -Chloé spits out. “And watch the lightning girl, she’s getting back up.”

Cat Noir winks with that unnerving, glowing green cat’s eye - not that her blue and gold ones are any less unnatural - and dives back into the fray. Chloé scans the horizon and follows the path the villain took in reverse. 

It’s _shockingly_ _easy_ to fall back into doing what needs to be done; she spots buildings in the process of crumbling and uses her honey to seal in the cracks. She flies people out of them, to the wonder of the firemen and paramedics waiting below. She puts out the fires by drenching them in the sugary substance. It feels like she’s on auto-pilot - which might be a good thing, since she’s drawing on the experience of the previous Bee Holders, but also feels an _awful lot_ like the beginnings of dissociation. Chloé eventually forces herself to actually pay attention to what she’s doing, which is when she spots the tiny, electric blue _Fiat 500_ embedded into the second story of an office building. 

She  _ knows _ this car. It changes paintjobs every time its owner gets a new hair color.

Frantic, she zips towards it. Sure enough, she finds the people she expected to see inside: it’s Juleka, Rose, and the former’s older brother, seventeen year-old Luka Couffaine.

The girls are a lot worse for wear than Luka, who’s merely sporting a sizable cut on his chin. Rose’s leg appears to be broken, swollen and purple a few inches above her right foot. Juleka got the worst of it; her side of the car is the one stuck into the building, and the impact was so quick and brutal that there’s a piece of twisted rebar sticking out of the right side of her abdomen. Rose is crying from the pain, and Luka’s trying to calm her down, but Juleka doesn’t seem to be moving.

_ Come on, Ladybug,  _ she finds herself thinking, stomach churning at the horrific scene,  _ fix this already _ .

The magic ladybugs don’t come - and in fact, the weather starts worsening, with gale force winds starting to mess with her balance - so Chloé gets to work. She grabs onto the car’s frame, trying to find the strongest points, and pulls the whole thing out. It’s like trying to lift a huge bag of flour - heavy, but not unbearably so. The car’s occupants can only stare in shock at their savior. Chloé breathes a sigh of relief as the movement causes Juleka to wake up, moaning in pain. She’s still in terrible danger, but if she can complain, even a little, she figures the goth has got a fighting chance.

Chloé sets the car down quickly, as its weight, combined with the winds, starts putting considerable strain on her wings. She rushes to Juleka’s side, and tears out the mangled door, as well as a not insignificant chunk of the frame. 

There’s a  _ lot  _ of blood. It takes her a good five seconds to unfreeze from the sight.

Bee swallows her fear, and tries to calm her roiling stomach. She follows her Miraculous-given instincts, and pours a handful of honey into the wound. It hardly seems  _ hygienic _ , but it feels  _ right _ : the honey seems... _ different _ , lighter in color. It also doesn’t quite crystallize, but instead gains the texture of cooling hot glue. Juleka visibly relaxes, and opens her odd, crimson eyes just a bit, confusion plain in her face. “Chloé…?” -she mutters to herself.

The blonde winces. How the  _ hell _ ... _ ? _ “It’s Queen Bee,  _ mademoiselle _ .”

Rose hobbles over, supported by Luka. “Oh God, is she okay?”

Chloé raises an eyebrow. “There’s a piece of  _ rebar _ sticking out of her, so  _ no _ .” -she can’t help sarcastically remarking. “But she’ll live. At least, until Ladybug fixes everything.” -she says. It’s more of an educated guess than an actual diagnosis, but the pair seems to accept it. The word of a superhero is worth a lot, apparently.

Rose, oblivious to her sarcasm, breathes a  _ huge  _ sigh of relief, and surges forward towards her girlfriend. “Oh,  _ thank you _ ...um, what’s your name?”

“Queen Bee.” -Chloé repeats, slightly mollified. It’s pretty clear from Rose’s expression that she has no idea who she is under the mask. Juleka must’ve just been a bit delirious and immediately associated the blonde locks with her civilian identity.

Probably.  _ Hopefully. _ Marinette and Mlle. Bustier knowing who Queen Bee really is is already  _ way _ too many people for comfort.

“Are you with Ladybug and Cat Noir?” -Luka asks, helping Rose to lie down beside his barely conscious sister.

Chloé purses her lips. “Not in so many words. We don’t exactly  _ know _ each other. But I’m  _ kinda _ looking forward to  _ breaking Hawk Moth’s spine _ right about now, so you’ve got nothing to fear from me.”

Luka nods, mildly amused, but mostly genuinely thankful. “Thank you, Queen Bee. Truly, I think you saved her life.”

“... _ right _ .” -she says, awkwardly. “It’s, y’know, what we do.”

Another wave of massively powerful wind hits them, so Chloé kneels and holds them together, lest they take flight. It works, but the wind is strong enough that the Couffaines’s car gets pushed toward them. Chloe grits her teeth and rises, standing in the way of the vehicle and grunting when it hits her palms. The strength of a hundred million bees proves superior, thankfully, and she prevents the car from crushing them all, but it’s clear that the streets are unsafe.

“You need to get inside.” -she says, as she kicks the vehicle away. “I need to go help others.”

“Can you carry Juleka?” -Luka asks. Chloé nods, and gently picks up the tall girl, who merely grunts as the rebar inside her shifts. The nearest ‘safe’ building is a movie theater, deserted by the looks of it. Chloé kicks the door open - and, accidentally,  _ entirely  _ off its hinges - and floats inside, setting the brunette down on a couch in the lounge. The other two follow inside, and stay with Juleka. 

After even more thanks - and a hug from Rose that nearly crushes her, even through the Miraculous’s protection - Chloé bursts into the scene, only to find a torrential downpour has begun. She grits her teeth, and gets to work.

* * *

It’s fifteen minutes later when the Miraculous Cure bursts across Paris and heals the city and its inhabitants. Even with the seemingly boundless stamina granted by the Miraculous, Chloé drapes herself on a random, slanted rooftop, feeling completely exhausted. She probably lifted  _ every single heavy thing _ that fell in Paris.

“Missed you, fighting against Stormy Weather.” -a familiar voice says, above her.

Chloé opens her eyes and finds Cat Noir staring down at her, his eyes even more unnerving in the waning daylight. “Is  _ that  _ what she called herself?” -Chloé asks, snorting.

Cat smirks. “I’m not all that clear on who names the villain - the akumatized person, or Hawk Moth himself? No idea.”

“Either way, they’re  _ shit  _ at it.”

“ _ Oof _ . Yours is not exactly a hero’s vocabulary, is it?”

Chloé flips him off, which causes Cat to cackle. “Good answer.”

“Don’t you have someone else to annoy? Like, perhaps,  _ not _ an exhausted superheroine?”

“Let’s just say I’m not all that eager on returning home.” -he says, sarcastic. “And, in any case, I was looking for you.”

Chloé sighs, and props herself up on her elbows. “What is it?”

Cat tilts his head. “We don’t know what to make of you, you know.” -he says. “Ladybug and I, when we helped you out the other night? After we beat Blind Date, we talked about you. I thought it was only fair to let you in on the conversation.”

Bee scowls at the reminder of her failure. “I shouldn’t have taken on that Akuma alone. No need to rub it in.”

“Oh no, that’s not it at all.” -Cat shrugs. “We’re not ones to judge. We’ve already made a  _ ton _ of mistakes, and we’ve only faced like, three Akumas. No, it’s where you come from and what you intend to do that worries me.”

Chloé raises an eyebrow. “Only you?”

“Ladybug, too...until today.” -he says, slightly troubled. “Guess she’s satisfied by your contributions.”

“And yet, they’re not enough for you.” -Chloé says, frowning.

Cat Noir seems to consider his words. “Do you know how our powers work?”

Chloé crosses her arms. “You destroy, she creates. When all’s said and done, Ladybug summons a nuke’s worth of magic insects and everything goes back to normal.”

He nods approvingly. “Well put, but that’s not quite the whole story.” -he says. “Ladybug doesn’t just summon the Miraculous Cure; she also purifies the Akumas. If she doesn’t, we get a repeat of the Stoneheart army situation. There’s many Miraculous out there, but none of them have the ability to counter Hawk Moth’s corruption this thoroughly.”

“Ok…”

“So, if Ladybug were to fall...Paris would be doomed. Not me, not you -  _ Ladybug _ .”

“What are you getting at?”

“My sole priority is protecting Ladybug.” -he says, staring at his obsidian claws. “I’ll gladly give my life if it means she makes it - and not just because she can bring Hawk Moth’s victims back from the dead.” -he says, conviction clear in his eyes. “I...I need to know that I can trust you to do the same.”

It’s a  _ hell  _ of a thing to ask, and something she’s not sure she’s ready to answer. She fights, yeah, for the people of Paris, for Bustier’s stolen partner, and for herself - that she may become a better person through her deeds as the Bee Holder. But...does she fight for Ladybug? Would she sacrifice her own life to see her fellow heroine victorious?

“I don’t know.” -she says, honestly. “I’d like to say so, but there’s a  _ world  _ between a claim like this and reality.”

She sits up, cross-legged. “Up until recently, I wasn’t a very good person, Cat. Finding the Miraculous has completely changed my life, and the dust hasn’t really settled on that. I don’t know that I’m a good person yet, even if I just spent my afternoon rescuing people.”

Cat Noir nods. “Believe me, I understand. But I also need  _ you  _ to understand that this isn’t something we can afford you doubting yourself on. Any wrong move could give Hawk Moth the victory - and I somehow doubt he’d use his newly acquired earrings to fix the city and people he’d destroy in the process.” -he says, bitter. “We  _ need _ you to be on our team, not just a free agent that may or may not end up getting in the way because we have different priorities.”

Chloé thinks of Juleka, Rose, and Luka. “I can’t ignore civilians in danger, Cat.” -she says. Sure; once the Miraculous Cure burst out across the city, all injuries and Miraculous-related deaths were reversed (and she  _ did  _ double back and check that Juleka was fine), but if Chloé hadn’t been there, their brief moment of panic might have turned into a lifetime of trauma. The same goes for about two dozen other groups of civilians she ended up helping during Stormy Weather’s rampage.

“None of us can. We’ll never turn away from anyone in need.” -he reassures her. “But, at the end of the day, the villains  _ need  _ to be defeated, and the Akumas purified. I believe you obtained the Miraculous of Cooperation for a reason - I believe you’re meant to be an important part of our team. Can we trust you to help us take Hawk Moth down, together?”

She purses her lips, and nods. “I’ll do my best to help you take the bastard down.”

He smirks. “Hey, that’s the spirit!” -he says, visibly relaxed. “I thought I’d have to, like, bluff some kind of threat of taking your Miraculous and giving it to someone else, or something.”

Chloé shakes her head. “You’d have to  _ kill _ me,  _ fur ball _ . I’m never letting Pollen go.”

“Hey, no one understands that better than me.” -he says. “If it weren’t for Plagg, I’d still be cooped up at home, I wouldn’t have these awesome powers...and I wouldn’t know my beloved Lady.”

Impulsiveness borne of her earlier confession and the freedom that comes with anonymity push her to banter back. “We’ll see how long she remains yours,  _ fleabag _ .” -she teases.

“Ah! Is that some competition I detect? Perhaps a little crush on my dearest Bugaboo?”

Chloé snorts at the ridiculous pet name. “I mean, who  _ doesn’t _ have a crush on Ladybug?”

“Very true, very true.” -he says. “But hey, it’s like you said. You’d have to kill me…” -he says, then tilts his head. “ _ Huh _ . I guess we never  _ did _ get your name.”

The blonde looks out at the horizon, letting the calm wind start to carry her away into the night. Paris remains protected, at least for another night. She did her part, and that’s all she can really ask of herself.

“It’s Queen Bee. And  _ don’t  _ you forget it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interestingly enough, that last confrontation with Cat Noir was intended to show an Adrien much closer to Gabriel as Hawk Moth than this, a la Adrien threatening Lila in "Ladybug". However, while I wholeheartedly believe his demeanor vs Lila was justified there, it just didn't feel right with Chloé here. Focusing on helping civilians isn't exactly a bad thing, even if it's ultimately somewhat pointless versus defeating the source of the damage and ensuring Ladybug can fix everything. I do agree with Chloé, though; it's still important to help people in the moment, and our heroes should never lose sight of that priority.
> 
> The alternate honey-like substance Chloé instinctively uses to stabilize Juleka is meant to represent royal jelly! It basically acts as biofoam from the Halo series. It cleans the wounds, staves off infections, and helps give structure to the injured body part.


	8. Catharsis by Smashed Concrete Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paris eagerly adopts their new heroine. The teenager under the domino mask doesn't know what to make of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry for this unintentional hiatus! I've just been *that* busy irl.

Chloé feels like she’s moments away from spontaneously combusting.

Two sets of eyes have been tracking her from the very moment she arrived at school. One of them knows for a  _ fact  _ she’s Paris’s brand new hero, and the other...well, Juleka might  _ think  _ she knows something, but unless she’s been somehow  _ peeping _ into hers, Mlle. Bustier’s, or Marinette’s houses, there’s  _ no way _ in  _ hell _ the goth saw her transform. 

Still, Juleka won’t stop staring at her. It’s  _ annoying _ \- what, is she expecting her to  _ transform  _ in front of  _ everybody _ ? Hawk Moth  _ himself _ would have to pop into the classroom for that to happen. Revealing her identity to Marinette already has her biting her expensively manicured fingernails, and she’s  _ far _ from keen on accruing  _ more _ anxiety,  _ thank you very much _ .

To her credit, Marinette isn’t  _ explicitly _ trying to draw her attention. Chloé dreads the conversation she’ll  _ surely  _ have to have with her, but the brunette hasn’t tried to talk to her yet, only offering a shaky but reassuring smile or two whenever Chloé glances back at her and they briefly lock gazes.

It’s... _ somewhat _ nice, knowing Marinette doesn’t seem to outright disapprove of her being Queen Bee. But it’s also a new sort of... _ pressure _ . A need to prove to the best role model she knows - in her age group, anyway - that she deserves the power of the Bee. 

It doesn’t help that Queen Bee’s gone viral; Chloé hasn't paid it much mind until now, but Alya created a blog focused on Paris’s defenders - before anyone else, mind you,  _ literally _ as Stoneheart was rampaging, which Chloé  _ feels _ must be some kind of  _ faux pas _ \- and it’s become a veritable sensation in the city. The Ladyblog -  _ god-awful  _ name, really - has already compiled  _ hundreds  _ of user-submitted pictures of heroes and villains alike, neatly organized and displayed in such a way that Chloé can  _ almost  _ forgive the new girl for the site’s terrible moniker.

Among these are a couple dozen pictures of her - most too blurry to really appreciate, but there  _ are _ some gems. The still of Queen Bee mid-flight is her favorite; it’s a superb shot, likely taken by a professional photographer, of her surveying the scene, looking for the people most in need of assistance. She’s pretty sure it was taken just a few moments before finding Rose and the Couffaines, so whoever took the picture must’ve only had a moment to do so.

Like before, even knowing who she’s looking at, Chloé can’t recognize herself. Part of her wonders if it’s the Miraculous’s glamour magic obfuscating her features, even through a digital image, or just plain old disbelief on her part that this clearly heroic figure and Chloé Bourgeois could ever be one and the same. She’s in the middle of this mental debate when a familiar voice startles her, nearly making her shriek in the middle of the school’s courtyard.

“Who’s  _ that _ ?” -Adrien asks, over her shoulder. Chloé does her best not to jump out of her skin.

“ _ Fuck _ , warn a chick, will you?” -Chloé says, handing him her phone and crossing her arms. “S’just another costume. They’re calling this one Queen Bee.”

Adrien’s eyes widen in recognition. “Oh! This is Alya’s blog, right?”

Chloé resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Yeah. The  _ Ladyblog _ .” -she says, sarcastic.

“That’s a cool name.” -he says, decidedly  _ not  _ sarcastic.

The blonde scoffs. “It’s  _ absolutely not _ . Remind me, why are we even friends again?”

Adrien gives her a cheeky smirk. “Your cynicism and my optimism naturally balance each other out, I think.”

“More like you’re the adorable puppy to my wretched  _ bitch _ .” -she says. Adrien laughs, despite his usual sensibilities. Chloé eases off her near-permanent scowl somewhat; if someone told her Adrien’s laughter was clinically proven to improve your mental health, she’d believe it.

Adrien gives her back her phone. “Did you get home safely yesterday?” -Chloé asks.

He nods. “Yeah. Nathalie and Simon picked me up - the Akuma attack happened a little after we arrived. For once, I’m thankful Father’s made a citadel out of our house.” -he says, relieved. “What about you? You must’ve been at  _ chez _ Marinette’s, still. That was, like, storm central.”

Chloé winces. “The Akuma blew her house up. I...can’t really remember anything afterwards. The next thing I knew, I was back home, and the attack had ended.” -she says. It’s not a  _ complete _ lie. Chloé  _ was _ at Marinette’s, and then detransformed back at the hotel.

The boy pales. “ _ Oh _ . You don’t think…?” -he asks.

“That I  _ died _ ? Yeah, I thought about it.”

Adrien’s lip wavers. “ _ God _ ...that’s  _ awful _ . I’m so sorry, Chloé.”

She purses her lips. Thank  _ God _ , he bought it. “It’s  _ fine _ , Adrien. Maybe I just went unconscious. I don’t even know for sure, and thanks to Ladybug, I won’t have to. Maybe Marinette would know better, since she was in the room, too.” -she says, then narrows her eyes at him. “ _ Speaking of whom _ ...what’s  _ up  _ between you two, huh?”

The mood whiplash is evident on Adrien’s expression. He blushes furiously, as if caught by  _ Monsieur  _ Agreste being a less than perfect teenage model. “I...don’t know what you’re talking about?”

Chloé huffs. “Never a good thing to deny your loved one, Adrikins.”

He rubs the back of his head. “It’s not a sure thing yet, Chloé. I promise, you’d know about it if that were the case.”

She feels a bit of relief at this assurance. “But there  _ is _ something between you two, isn’t there?”

Adrien ponders his words for a moment. “Yes, there is. It’s... _ complicated _ , for  _ many _ reasons, but I-  _ we’re _ trying to make it work.” -he admits. “We met a few weeks before school - her parents were contracted to cater at the launch of Father’s latest summer line. She was there as their assistant, and I caught her glancing at me, so I went over and we struck a conversation.”

Chloé raises an eyebrow. “I’m surprised your old man let you mingle with the commoners.”

It’s the briefest of moments, but Chloé thinks she catches a scowl before his usual neutral expression regarding the elder Agreste comes right up. “Father wasn’t at the event. He’s...become a  _ lot  _ more reclusive lately. I think...I think he’s getting  _ worse _ . Missing  _ maman _ , I mean. You’d think after five years...” -he mutters. “ _ ...anyway _ , the Gorilla was out sick, and Nathalie was  _ way  _ too busy with the event to keep an eye on me, so I got to ‘mingle’, as you say.”

The blonde wants to keep him grilling for deets on the meet-cute, but she can’t help but feel like she ought to say something about Gabriel. “Adrien...I know we’ve always joked around a lot about your dad, but... _ fuck _ , it sounds like he’s neglectful, on top of his  _ usual  _ hardass crap.”

Adrien sighs. “I can’t exactly blame him, Chloé. I don’t know that I’d be any better, if I lost the love of my life.”

Chloé resists the urge to snort.  _ Love of his life, my  _ ass _ ,  _ she thinks. Even as an  _ eight year-old _ , she could tell the Agrestes’ marriage was in dire straits. Their conversations were often hushed, and always strained - more than likely, Gabriel’s eternal paranoia and snobbish behavior clashed too much with Emilie’s tendency to be an absolute social butterfly. “Yeah,  _ somehow _ , I don’t buy that.” -she settles for. “And in  _ any  _ case,  _ you’re _ here, too. It’s not fair of him to shut you out, even  _ if _ his grief is this powerful.”

“I know.” -he says. “I just...don’t know what to do with him anymore. I  _ literally  _ have to  _ book an appointment _ with Nathalie if I want to talk to him - and there’s absolutely no guarantee that he’ll even accept it.” -he laments. “And when we  _ do _ talk, he  _ barely  _ lets me get a word in.”

She scowls. “Adrien, that’s  _ nuts _ . Gabriel’s always been  _ shit _ at parenting, but this is downright criminal.”

Adrien offers a weak smile. “It’s like you said. It’s always been like this, with him.  _ Maman’s  _ death just makes it worse. At least I still have Nathalie on my corner. And the Gorilla.” -he says, then smirks, more genuinely. “And now, I have you back.”

“And Marinette, I’m sure.” -she teases, even though hearing about Adrien’s home life has caused her stomach to drop.

He glances over at the other side of the courtyard, where Marinette is laughing along with Alix and Nathanael. Adrien sighs dreamily, in full on lovesick mode. “Yeah...I have Marinette.”

Chloé shakes her head, fondly. She’s happy for him, truly - if anyone’s deserving of a loving partner in life, it’s the radiant beam of sunshine in human form she’s fortunate enough to call her best friend.

It’s just a shame that Adrien’s happiness causes her just a  _ little  _ bit of pain.

* * *

There’s nothing  _ quite  _ like putting your fist through an entire wall of solid concrete.

Chloé and Mlle. Bustier are in an abandoned _métro _station, towards the northern outskirts of the city. They’re not likely to be bothered there, so the blonde gets to practice with her powers in relative privacy, and under the vigilant eye of an experienced Miraculous Holder. Chloé has no idea how Caline found it, and it kinda scares her to ask.

Caline raises her eyebrow, nudging a freshly made pebble with her sneaker-clad foot. “Are you  _ sure  _ you’re in the right mindset for this?” -she asks. “We could always reschedule.”

“_Trust me._” -Chloé says, pulling back her hand and examining the black and yellow glove with some fascination. She doubts the novelty will wear off anytime soon. “I need to let off some steam. Now is _perfect_.”

The blonde jumps and turns in place, delivering a devastating roundhouse kick that breaks down the rest of the wall into nothing but rubble. Caline purses her lips, clearly concerned. “Talk to me, then. I thought the Stormy Weather affair went well. What happened?”

Chloé scoffs. “What _happened? _What _didn’t?_” -she asks, rhetorical. “How about _before _the battle, in which Marinette’s mom decided to absolutely _crush_ _me_ with guilt and anxiety over how badly I treated her daughter? Or when Marinette figured out my biggest secret like it was the most obvious thing? _Or_ \- and here’s the best part - that I had to transform _right in front of her_ to save her life?”

Bustier tries to comment, but Chloé’s on a roll. She picks up a nearby boulder and hurls it at a broken down piece of machinery, which explodes into twisted metal and bits of stone. “ _ Then _ , I get  _ front row fucking seats _ to Juleka getting  _ skewered  _ by a piece of rebar, only to heal and somehow  _ recognize me _ while transformed.”

“Oh, gods...” -Caline says, but the teen is not done. 

“And to top it all off, I get to find out my best friend’s being neglected by his shitty fucking father!” -Chloé yells, and her fists get covered in honey, which rapidly solidifies into jagged crystals - fragile, but sharp enough to be lethal.

Caline puts her hands on Chloé’s shoulders. “Come on. Drop the wrecking ball act, let’s talk.”

Chloé’s lower lip trembles, but she does as she’s bid. “Right.  _ Talk _ .” -Chloé mumbles.

“Walk me through it.” -Caline suggests. “What did  _ Madame _ Cheng say to you?”

The blonde sighs. “She warned me against hurting Marinette.  _ Again _ , that is. She...said she’d make my life hell if I did.” -Chloé says, hugging herself. “She said Marinette used to  _ cry _ because of me.”

“She did.” -Caline says, serious. “I caught her, once or twice, but she wouldn’t tell me why. Not that it was hard to figure out the reason, mind you.”

“Why didn’t you  _ say _ anything?”

Caline purses her lips. “I suppose I had... _ hope _ . That you’d come to see the error of your ways without my direct intervention.” -she muses. “Still; you’re a kid, and I’m supposed to be the adult. You’re  _ supposed  _ to make mistakes - and it’s  _ my _ job to correct them. I should’ve noticed how bad it was. I shouldn’t have let it keep happening.”

“You can’t just  _ absolve  _ me like that.” -Chloé retorts. “I knew  _ perfectly well _ what I was doing, and why.”

“It’s true, you  _ do  _ bear the blame in this.” -she allows. “But so do I, and even Marinette’s mother. She knew that her daughter was suffering and did nothing about it. And what about  _ Monsieur  _ Dupain? Did he even  _ know  _ about the bullying? What about her friends? Why didn’t Alix or Rose speak up?”

Caline offers her a reassuring smile. “We can assign blame all day long, if you’d like. But I find it most productive to simply look back to the people we were, and strive to be better going forward.”

“You make it sound so easy.” -Chloé complains.

“It  _ isn’t _ . But you’re already doing it, so why hold yourself back?” -she says. “Keep going. What’s this about your biggest secret? If you’re comfortable sharing, that is.”

Chloé grunts. “I’m  _ not _ .” -she says, then sighs. “But I don’t know that I ever could be, so I might as well try with the  _ one person  _ who might understand.”

Caline frowns. “Chloé, that’s not how this works. I don’t want you to feel  _ pressured _ into sharing. We can skip this one of you prefer.”

“If we  _ do _ , it’s just gonna keep  _ fucking me up  _ inside.” -Chloé counters. She takes a deep breath. “I’m...like  _ you _ .”

“Like  _ me _ ?”

“Yeah. I’ve known and denied it to myself for...well, almost a  _ decade _ . That I’m  _ different _ . Not into the same things most women are. Not into the same  _ people _ .” -she says, almost guiltily, then groans. “ _ Please  _ don’t make me say it out loud.”

Caline’s expression softens. “ _ Ah _ . I see.”

Chloé waits a moment, but it appears Mlle. Bustier isn’t going to comment further. “What, that’s  _ it _ ?”

“I’m not sure what else to say.” -Caline admits. “I’ve never had a student come out to me. I’m  _ thrilled  _ for you, of course, but it’s also very clear that this is causing you pain.”

“Didn’t it, for you?” -Chloé asks, searching the older woman’s face for... _ something _ . 

Caline hums. “Of  _ course _ it did, but I get the feeling that our suffering comes from very different sources.” -she muses. “I grew up in a strictly conservative environment, surrounded by rather  _ close-minded _ people. If not for my Kwami, I would’ve never realized that I was unhappy with the path my family and community expected me to follow. I was nearly eighteen when I realized I fancied other women.” -she says. “It sounds like  _ you  _ figured it out  _ immediately _ .”

Chloé shrugs. “I had to mature pretty quickly. Thinking about boys just...never seemed right. So I did my research, and then I knew for a fact I was… _ y’know _ .”

“Did your father ever say anything to make you fear coming out? I thought he was supportive of the LGBT community.” -Caline says.

She snorts. “He’s supportive of whatever will bring him the most votes and money - he figures taking the popularity hit with the hardass religious types is worth the good press, so he plasters on a smile and waves a rainbow flag once a year.  _ Daddy _ doesn’t  _ really _ have any ideals of his own.” -she explains. “I’m also  _ pretty _ sure he wanted me to get with Adrien, but neither of us were interested in each other. But no, he’s never said anything to that effect.”

“And your mom?”

Chloé narrows her eyes. “I _don’t_ _have_ one. Bitch left me- _us_, and never looked back.”

Caline hums. “ _ Right _ .” -she says. “What stops you, then?”

“I don’t know.” -Chloé finds herself saying.  _ Lying _ , really. She knows she’s afraid of her public image  _ crumbling _ , should the secret get out. She knows she’s afraid of the scrutiny that comes with that kind of revelation - of the stares, the whispers, the  _ anxiety _ . She knows she’s afraid of finding a special someone only for this hypothetical ‘her’ to figure out just what kind of  _ horrible person _ Chloé is. 

_ Was _ . Is trying not to be anymore? One of the two.

“That’s a lie.” -Chloé amends. “I _do _know. I’m just..._afraid_. Scared that people will figure out just _how much _of a mess I really am. That they’ll _pity me_, the motherless, _friendless_ _gay bitch_.” -she says, hotly, scowling when she realizes she’s called herself...well, what she is.

Caline winces at the vitriol. “Chloé, there’s nothing you can do about  _ most _ of those things - you can’t force your mother to come back, and you can’t... _ stop _ being homosexual. You can’t and  _ shouldn’t _ try to control what people will think or say about you. But you  _ can  _ work on your attitude - as you have been - and you  _ can  _ befriend other people. Things with Sabrina may be up in the air right now, but you have Adrien back in your life, and I  _ genuinely _ think you could find an  _ excellent _ friend in Marinette.” -she says. “And even if  _ that _ doesn’t pan out, there’s a  _ bunch  _ of other people out there who’d love nothing more than to call you a friend - people who’d  _ love you _ for who you are. There’s no  _ rush _ here, of course, not for someone as young as a  _ literal teenager _ , but  _ really _ , the only person holding you back here is yourself.”

Chloé shakes her head. “...that sounds about right. I’m  _ usually  _ my own worst enemy.”

Caline’s smile is filled with sympathy. “You’re hardly alone in that. It’s just something to be worked on, Chloé.”

“ _ Right _ .”

The blonde hero approaches a derelict train wagon. Curious, she tries to lift it, but only succeeds in bending the chassis under her hands, the weight too overwhelming, even for her supernatural strength.

“What are you going to do about Marinette knowing?”

Chloé stares at the old wagon. “I don’t know. She hasn’t told on me, so I figure she won’t say anything, but…” -she shakes her head. “I’m so  _ bad _ at this shit. What kind of hero blows their identity on their first outing?”

“Tony Stark.” -Caline says, deadpan.

She snorts. “I bet Iron Man didn’t have a tiny goddess forbidding him from oversharing.”

“It was a life or death situation, Chloé. I’d think ‘the rules’ allow for that.” -Caline muses. “What did Pollen say?”

“Not much.” -she admits. “I think she’s worried, but she wouldn’t actually  _ say _ anything other than ‘take caution, My Queen’. I almost wish she’d been...angry,  _ disappointed _ . I know how to handle those. Her being completely neutral? I don’t know what to do with neutral.”

“Honestly, if anyone was going to find out, you couldn’t have lucked out more than with Marinette and I.” -Caline says. “A past Holder and the kindest, most trustworthy teenager I’ve ever known.”

“I mean...for all we know, Marinette  _ could  _ be Hawk Moth.”

Caline looks personally insulted. Chloé smirks slightly. “I know, I know.” -she shakes her head, amused. “You’re not wrong. And I don’t  _ regret _ it or anything.” -she says. “But it’s still another  _ fuck-up _ for the pile, however small.”

“That ‘pile’ is never getting any smaller, Chloé. You’ll never stop making mistakes, so there’s no sense in keeping count.”

“I’d stop if I could.” -she says. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t overthink everything.”

“Again. Not alone.” -she says. “I’ve already told you I think you should talk to Marinette - but I wonder if it wouldn’t be a better idea for you to visit as Queen Bee.”

“Wh-  _ really _ ?”

“ _ Yes _ , really.” -Caline says. “You obviously need to hash it out, now that she knows who you are, but...mostly, I think you need to talk with someone who knows what having a ton of responsibilities thrust upon them is like.”

Chloé scowls. “What,  _ you _ don’t count?”

“Not like  _ she _ would.” -she says. “My job can be demanding, of course, but Marinette has taken on  _ way _ too much for a teen to bear. I’m sure you’ve noticed how exhausted she’s been lately.”

“She  _ is  _ always tired.” -Chloé muses. Still looks like a million bucks, bags under her eyes and all, but Chloé’s definitely noticed.

“Your responsibilities might be a bit more… _ supernatural _ , but no less overwhelming. She’ll understand what you’re going through better than I ever could, I bet.”

Chloé crosses her arms, stubborn. “I can  _ handle  _ it.”

“I’m not saying you  _ can’t _ , but it’s clearly taken a toll already. You mentioned Juleka’s injury.”

The blonde winces at the refreshed memory. “I don’t know how I didn’t faint. Or  _ puke _ , at the very least.”

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” -Caline promises. “Not that you’d be weak if you  _ had  _ reacted in those ways, of course, but wielding a Miraculous does not come easily to the weak-willed.”

Chloé hums, skeptical. “Yeah, well. Ask me again when I come across an  _ actual _ dead body. It’s not like Hawk Moth’s giving any sign of slowing down.”

Caline scowls. “No. He isn’t. I fear this madness of his will only get worse until you three can stop him.”

“Way to lay on the pressure.”

The redhead smirks. “I know you can handle it.” -she says, then nods at her. “Now, come on. You’ve abused this poor derelict station enough. Let’s spar.”

“Um,  _ hello _ ? Strength of a hundred million bees, here?” -Chloé says, tilting her head in confusion. “I’ll snap you like a twig.”

“Bold words from someone who’s not gonna lay a finger on me.” -Caline claims, a competitive side Chloé’s never seen before taunting the blonde.

“Oh, you are  _ so  _ on.”


	9. Contingencies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Caline's suggestion - she wasn't bluffing, Chloé legit couldn't touch her in sparring - Chloé goes to confront Marinette as Queen Bee. 
> 
> Or: Chloé's best attempt at a Marichat(TM) balcony scene.

Marinette opens her window on minute fifteen of Chloé trying to decide whether to go through with this crazy idea of Bustier’s or not.

“You _ do _realize it’s midnight and raining, right?” -the brunette asks, beckoning her inside.

Chloé winces, and squeezes into the room. The transformation numbs her against pretty much anything that could bother her - pain, heat, cold, and apparently, water - but she can still appreciate the warmth of her living quarters. 

“I tried coming in earlier, but you were working in the store.”

She smirks. “Like I said, quarter shifts. Plus, we need to clean and leave everything ready for tomorrow.”

The blonde glances at Marinette’s eyes, saddled with the beginnings of some _ serious _bruising. She must be exhausted. “I can come back tomorrow.” -she says, embarrassed.

Marinette snorts, opening her closet and digging through it. She pulls out a ratty-looking towel - for _ her _ standards, anyway - and tosses it at her. “You’re already here. Go for it, Chloé.”

She gets a serious case of the goosebumps, hearing her name uttered so brazenly and consciously while she’s Queen Bee. “That _ is _me.” -she says, wrapping herself in the towel.

“Wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it.” -Marinette confesses, sitting on her bed.

Chloé scowls. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s _ hardly _ my place to judge who gets to have magical superpowers.” -she says, diplomatically. “But, I’ll admit, it’s been...hard to wrap my mind around the whole thing.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one. I never asked for any of this.”

“And yet, here you are. One of Paris’s chosen protectors. A _ lifesaver_, in the most literal sense.” -she says. “You’ll excuse me if I’m struggling to reconcile Queen Bee with the Chloé Bourgeois I know and... _ appreciate_.”

Chloé leans against the wall beside the now closed window. “You know me. I don’t _ do _ half measures.”

Marinette shakes her head. “No, you do not.”

The blonde sighs. Marinette _ usually _ wears her heart on her sleeve, but this conversation finds her uncharacteristically cryptic, unreadable. She doesn’t seem to outright disapprove, but Chloé’s identity is _ clearly _something of a conundrum.

“I imagine you have a shit-ton of questions.” -she says, finally.

Marinette laughs to herself, as if amused by some inside joke. “Not as many as you’d think. But yeah, _ I guess_. I don’t exactly get to talk to _ actual superheroes _ all that often.”

“Go for it. I’m pretty sure I _ can’t _ get tired in this, but _ you _ look dead on your feet.”

“_S__ome of us _ have to work for a living.”

“Here’s hoping I never get to experience _ that _particular pleasure.”

“As long as your father keeps _ mooching off _ most of France’s GDP, I doubt you will.”

Chloé rolls her eyes, good-naturedly. “_Please _ . He’s at least _ two _terms from contemplating the presidency.”

Marinette laughs, puts her hands out in a halting gesture. “Alright, _ enough _ banter. We’ll be at it all night.”

Chloé’s mind wanders dangerously close to thoughts more appropriate for older people. It doesn’t help that Marinette finally lets her hair down and _ holy crap_, where has _ this _Marinette been the last few years? She almost has to physically shake her head to snap out of it.

“Ask away.” -she manages.

The brunette nods. “Are you like Ladybug?”

Talk about a loaded question. “Our..._abilities _ come from the same sources, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Like Hawk Moth too, then.”

Chloé winces. “Well, _ sure_, but _ we’re _ not _ evil_.”

She gives her a humorless laugh. “No, I know. For all the, uh, _tough times _ you’ve given me, I couldn’t ever picture you joining the ‘Dark Side’, so to speak.”

“_Fuck _, Marinette.” -Chloé says, bowing her head slightly. “I never said I was sorry, did I?”

Marinette purses her lips. “No. You didn’t.” -she says, staring off into empty air. “But that’s a conversation for later. Figuring out where we stand now that I know you’re Queen Bee is a _ lot _ more important.”

Chloé crosses her arms. “That’s not fair to you.”

“Life often isn’t.” -she says, as if haunted by some unseen specter. “Chloé, I _ promise_. We _ will _ talk about it. But neither of us are ready for that conversation - not the least of the reasons being that it’s _ way _ too late and I’m _ exhausted _ already. I appreciate your efforts, but let’s keep things focused.”

The blonde resists the familiar urge to argue. “Fine.”

Marinette nods, relief visible in her expression. “Thank you.” -she says. “Hawk Moth mentioned Ladybug and Cat Noir draw their powers from something called a ‘Miraculous’.” -she prompts.

“Earrings and a ring for them, I think.” -Chloé agrees. “No idea what that old _ bastard _ has. I have this comb.” -she says, pointing at the active Miraculous.

Marinette’s eyes are drawn to the jewel, and then the strangest thing happens; her bluebell eyes focus and widen, like she’s only just woken up after a particularly long sleep. “_Whoa _ . That’s _ freaky_.”

Chloé frowns, offended on Pollen’s behalf. “_Fuck you _ , it’s _ cute _.”

Marinette snorts, despite herself. “_No_, I mean, before you mentioned it, I hadn’t noticed the Miraculous.” -she explains. “It’s _ weird_, like…”

“_Magic_.” -they say, in unison.

Chloé and Marinette lock eyes for a second, in a none-too-unpleasantly charged moment. The blonde gives in first, and clears her throat. “Yeah, well...that’s _ literally _what it is. Some kind of magic stone housing a tiny goddess that gives me my powers.”

To say Marinette’s eyes widen in glee is an understatement. Chloé can _ almost _ see the heart shapes inside them. “Oh my _ God! _ Can I meet her!?”

She purses her lips. “I don’t…”

Marinette seems to believe she’s crossed a line, because she immediately covers her mouth and apologizes. Chloé shakes her head, vehemently. “_Stop it _ , it’s fine. I’ve already _ fucked up _ the important bit, I’m _ sure _Pollen won’t mind meeting you.”

The brunette frowns, but Chloé doesn’t give her a chance to speak. “Pollen, _ Buzz Off_.”

Golden light briefly bathes the room as the transformation wears off, leaving Chloé in her fancy black silk pajamas - a stark contrast with Marinette’s cute little polka dot t-shirt and pink leggings. Pollen materializes once again, floating right in front of Marinette’s face. Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances leading up to this moment, Chloé can’t help but smile, seeing the pure awe and wonder in Marinette’s face. She blushes, and for once, she doesn’t quite mind that Marinette will _ definitely _notice.

Pollen doesn’t seem surprised at all to be facing the bakers’ daughter. “Hello, Marinette! Chloé’s told me so much about you!”

Marinette giggles, delighted. “Has she?”

The Kwami nods. “Yeah, so much!” -she repeats herself, then gasps. “You have freckles!”

“A few, yeah.” -she blushes. “I’m surprised Chloé didn’t mention them.”

Pollen once again demonstrates her lack of understanding - or care - for human manners, as she wholly invades Marinette’s personal space, inspecting the freckles up close. “They’re like Tikki’s spots, but tiny!” -she says.

Chloé raises an eyebrow. “Who’s Tikki?”

Her Kwami buzzes around Marinette. “She’s Ladybug’s Kwami, of course!” -she says, then plops down on top of Marinette’s head. “I miss her _ bunches_...I haven’t seen her in _ so long_.”

Marinette hums. “Well, maybe you’ll see her again soon? Since Ladybug is active, and all.”

Pollen deflates a bit. “I doubt it. It’s _ dangerous _ for Kwami to gather. _E__specially _for one as powerful as Tikki.”

“How so?” -Chloé asks. 

“There...didn’t use to be so many of us.” -Pollen says. “Kwamis, I mean. I was one of the first, and I’ve been around since the stars were _ young_, but before even Tikki and Plagg, we were all part of the same being.”

Pollen gently floats down to Marinette’s open palms. “There’s always been...a _pull_, between us. Like the creature that Was would like to Be again. We created the jewels, the _Miraculous_, so that reunification wouldn’t happen, not without prompting from our Holders, but...well, it just passed the _pull_ onto them.”

Chloé is a little shocked; Pollen told her the basics, of course, and bits and pieces since, but this is..._huge _ . This is like, _ lore_, real-life cosmic history that may or may not help explain just _ why _ Hawk Moth’s so eager to obtain the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses.

...why is Pollen so forthcoming now?

Marinette’s smart, so she catches on quick. “You think that’s why Hawk Moth wants Ladybug and Cat Noir’s Miraculouses so bad?”

Pollen shrugs. “It’s difficult to say. Mankind’s greed rarely needs an excuse. But...well, out of all Kwamis, Tikki and Plagg are _ the _ most powerful. None of us can compare to even _ one _ of them. To _ combine _ their powers...I imagine Hawk Moth would be able to _ reshape reality to his will_.”

Marinette gasps, and Chloé feels like she’s staving off an aneurysm. _ Reshape reality_. It’s the kind of _ crap _ she’d expect from a schlocky sci-fi show, but she knows better; Pollen’s dead serious, and thus, it’s a possibility they must now consider. What would that bastard do with such power, she wonders? Make himself ruler of the world? Draw all the other Kwamis to himself, becoming that cosmic creature the tiny gods apparently came from?

“But that’ll never happen!” -Pollen quickly reassures Marinette. “Ladybug and Cat Noir are excellent Holders, I can tell! And, of course, Chloé and I will do everything we can to help!”

Chloé tries to offer a reassuring smile, but she can’t. Instead, it seems like she pours every bit of fear, insecurity, and despair at her duty as Bearer of the Bee Miraculous into the expression, because Marinette goes from sitting to hugging her in approximately 0.003 seconds. Chloé’s already noticed a bit of extra muscle definition in the mirror, as her body grows more and more accustomed to the Miraculous, but magic apparently has _ nothing _ on Marinette’s bread-making _ gains _, if the crushing sensation around her chest is any indication.

...it _ could _ just be, of course, that it’s just a _ very _ tight hug in which, _ apparently, _ neither party is wearing a bra. She _ is_, after all, _ quite _ gay.

“Chloé...I had no idea.” -Marinette says. “I mean, I _ did_, obviously, because you saved me from being killed by Stormy Weather, and you’ve been helping keep people safe when Akumas attack, but…” -she rambles, then stops herself, and somehow holds her even _ tighter_. “You didn’t have to do this, y’know? You could’ve rubbed the Miraculous in my face, or just not used it at all, but...you’re risking your life, day after day, for people you wouldn’t even have noticed before. That’s…”

“Hypocritical?” -Chloé says, bracing herself.

Marinette pulls away. Her face is almost outraged. “_What? _ No! Heroic! Amazing! _ Incredible! _ ” -she says. “I _ wish _I was as brave about this as you are.”

Chloé finds herself scoffing. “What, like you’re _ not? _ I seem to recall _ you _ , in this very same room, quite _ stubbornly _ refusing to get to safety as an Akuma approached with _ murder _ in its mind.” -she reminds her. “_I _ had an excuse. What’s _ yours_, Marinette?”

For the first time in the night, the brunette stammers. “W-well, I had no idea you were Queen Bee! I thought you were just trying to put on a brave face.”

“And I _ was_, but I had Pollen to back me up. You had no such protection - _ you _ should’ve just _ run_.”

“And, what, leave you behind to _ ‘die’? _ I couldn’t do that, Chloé. Even _ if _ Ladybug brought you back, knowing I left you behind when I could’ve saved you would haunt me for the rest of my _ life_.”

Chloé shakes her head, eternally confounded by the sheer altruism on display. She takes the Miraculous off, and Pollen dutifully merges back into it, knowing Chloé was waiting for an opportunity like this - undeniable proof of Marinette’s worth as a potential Miraculous Holder. “When my..._ master_, so to speak, gave me the idea of coming to meet you as Queen Bee, I couldn’t stop thinking about one thing: how unfair it was of the universe for _ me _to get a Miraculous, while you remained as you are - a hero at your core, but powerless to show everyone.”

Marinette stills. She seems very nervous all of a sudden, which, _ fair_. The moment calls for it. “Chloé…?” -she says, uncertain.

“Try it on.” -Chloé says, offering the comb.

The brunette stills, staring intently at the Miraculous. “I-I can’t.”

“Don’t _ start _ with me. This isn’t a _ hand-off_. I _ can’t _ give you this, not for good.” -Chloé says, exasperated. “_Mostly _ because I love Pollen too much, but also because being the Bee Holder is a duty I’ve _ accepted_. But with that duty come the risks. I might get too injured to finish the fight.” -she says, then breathes deeply. “I might just fucking _ die_.”

Marinette looks like she’s about to cry. “Don’t even _ say _those things, Chloé!”

Chloé narrows her eyes. “Don’t get me _ wrong _ , _ Dupain-Cheng_. I don’t _ want _ to die. If it were up to me, I’d live _ for-fucking-ever_. I’d be at school every day to tick you off. I’d run my credit cards ragged with Sabrina. I’d watch shitty old animé with _ Adrikins _ and eat _ shitty junk food _ until I forgot what a waistline fucking _ is_.” -she says. “_Fuck_, I’d even go to your fucking after-school gay club. Maybe meet a girl who won’t run like _ cheap mascara _ the minute I get _ snappy_.”

She leans back against the frigid window. “But it’s not up to me, is it? It’s bad enough that I’m a young, beautiful teen in a world _ dominated _ by _ disgusting old men. _ I just _ had _ to go and _ piss off _ the one who can _ make supervillains on the spot_.”

Chloé points a borderline accusatory finger at Marinette. “So, _ Marinette_, if that _ motherfucker _ kills me in the line of duty, or whatever, I name you my successor. There is _ literally _ no one I can think of that deserves this more, so _ suck it up, and take the damn comb_.”

Marinette - who’s been silently weeping in alternating amusement, horror, and sorrow at her rant - gives her a watery laugh. “_There’s _the Chloé I remember.” -she says. “You’d barely even cursed since you came in.”

She takes the comb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was reminded that I should *probably* plug my Ko-fi page by a friend. It's under my username, but please don't feel obligated to contribute to my caffeine addiction (unless you're like, über-rich and can afford to literally throw money my way)!
> 
> This chapter was SO much fun to write taking Marinette's perspective into account. I was giggling to myself half the time!


	10. Reciprocity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In trying to do something nice for Marinette, Chloé makes an uneasy truce with Nathaniel - juuust in time for a new Akuma to strike. On the bright side, Chloé finally gets to fight alongside Paris' greatest heroes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Heck of a wait, I know, but I've been plenty busy lately. On the bright side, the base story for the universe this fic belongs to is now in AO3 as well! Make sure to check out The Girl Who Could Knock Out the Hulk for more background on this setting! (and, y'know, for whenever this story crosses over with it)
> 
> Special thanks to StellarStylus for beta reading this chapter! Go check his works out, he's got some awesome ideas cooking!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Chloé slaps four bills of fifty euros each in front of Nathaniel, which gives her the immense satisfaction of seeing the normally demure redhead’s eyes bug out in absolute shock.

“C-Chloé, what…!?”

“You draw _superhero_ _crap,_ right, Tomato-head?” -she asks, knowing full well he’s been drawing and posting some rudimentary comics based on Ladybug ever since she appeared.

He nods, numbly, still staring in shock at the money in front of him. As pre-Queen Bee Chloé was  _ oh-so-fond _ of reminding him, Nath is one of the scholarship kids in Bustier’s class, along with Rose, Nino, Sabrina, and of course, Marinette. Judging by the fact that he practically  _ lives  _ in  _ François Dupont’s _ reasonably well-stocked art room, he  _ probably _ doesn’t own the supplies he needs to really improve his craft. Two hundred euros - just to start with, of course - should go a fairly long way in getting him what he needs for his talents to truly shine.

Of course, her reasons are only  _ slightly  _ altruistic.

“I’m commissioning you. I need you to draw a character for me.” -she basically commands. “Do it right - and keep it a  _ secret _ \- and there’s more where  _ this  _ came from. Like, a  _ lot  _ more.”

Nathaniel wrings his hands. “I...Chloé, are you sure? I can recommend  _ way  _ better artists than myself for whatever you need.  _ Especially _ if this is your budget.” -he says. “I’m just a self-taught  _ amateur _ .”

This, she expects - Nathaniel is nothing if not self-doubting. “If you don’t  _ want  _ to do it, I  _ suppose _ I could look for someone else.” -she sighs, long-suffering. “But I’m  _ trying  _ to commission  _ you _ .”

The redhead quietly stares at the money for what feels like an eternity. He finally nods, shakily. “O-okay.” -he says. “I’ve, uh, never actually  _ had _ a commission before, so...what do you want me to draw, I guess?”

“You know that new heroine, Queen Bee?” -she asks, only a  _ bit  _ smug.

He nods, barely raising an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

“Well, I want you to draw  _ Marinette _ as Queen Bee.”

The boy is perplexed, no doubt about it. It’s a bit of a crazy idea, but Chloé can’t help herself; the image of Marinette shouting ‘Buzz On!’ and becoming the Bee Holder, if only for a little while, has stuck with her since. She looked  _ perfect _ , of course - almost like she was  _ born  _ to be a superhero - but she didn’t even look at herself in the mirror before shedding the transformation. Marinette’s birthday is a few months past, but...well, letting her see herself as Chloé did that night seems like a very good, if  _ very _ late birthday gift.

It doesn’t hurt that she’ll get to keep a copy of the image for herself, of course.

In a surprising twist, however, Nathaniel frowns, and pushes back the money. “Chloé, I-I’m sorry, but...if this is some kind of p-prank…”

Chloé curses under her breath. As far as most of her classmates know, she’s still kind of  _ evil _ , isn’t she? “ _ Jesus _ , Kurtzberg, this isn’t a  _ prank _ . It’s  _ supposed _ to be a  _ gift _ .”

He scowls. “Why would  _ you _ give  _ Marinette  _ a gift?”

She crosses her arms. “ _ Look _ , not that you  _ need  _ to know, but she and I have an... _ understanding _ , now. Call it her being a good influence on me, or whatever. And...I guess she deserves me letting her know. Hence, the gift.”

The red-haired teen evaluates her expression, still dubious. She groans. “ _ Nathaniel _ , I know I’ve been a  _ bitch  _ for as long as you’ve known me, but...I’m trying to be less of one, and you are  _ not _ making it easy on me.”

“Alright, fine!” -he says. “I’m just... _ forgive me _ for not realizing you’ve done a  _ complete 180 degree turn _ in the last couple of weeks, alright?”

Chloé smirks. She didn’t know he had in him. “Smart-ass, huh? I can work with that, Nath.”

“ _ Right… _ ” -he sighs. “Just... _ please _ , don’t make me regret this. I don’t want my work to upset anyone.”

“Art will  _ always _ end up upsetting  _ someone _ , Kurtzberg. Better get used to it.” -Chloé notes. “But I get it. You don’t have anything to worry about, not from me.”

“ _ Uh-huh _ . I’ll have some progress for you to look at by the end of the week.” -he says, taking only one of the bank notes. “This is still a  _ lot _ , but at least it’s a bit more  _ reasonable _ , for what you’re asking. Besides, I,  _ uh _ ...don’t have any change.”

Chloé rolls her eyes, and takes back the cash. “Fifty now, fifty when you deliver - and don’t you  _ dare _ reject my money again. I don’t care about  _ reasonable _ , I’m  _ rich _ .”

The redhead nods, numbly. “I... _ thanks _ .”

The blonde leaves the shocked artist be, and heads for the exit of the study hall. Her chest feel surprisingly full - she’s not sure if it’s the satisfaction of getting this little side project of hers on track, or the lingering effects of her heart to heart with Marinette, but she doesn’t really care to find out. 

Of  _ course _ that’s when the Akuma strikes.

* * *

It’s... _ pigeons _ .

There’s  _ thousands  _ of them, so many they seem to blot out the sun. The Akumatized villain - named Mr. Pigeon, because Hawk Moth is an  _ unimaginative hack  _ \- wields them as weapons,  _ constructs _ even. They form solid masses he can stand on and use to float, or throw as if to emulate a massive fist. It seems utterly  _ ridiculous _ , but the goddamn flying rats hit like a  _ truck _ . Chloé’s pretty sure she got punched clean through a couple buildings the first time she got tagged.

He’s not a very  _ difficult _ Akuma, though, not like Stormy Weather or Stoneheart were. The pigeons are  _ versatile _ , sure, but it’s easy for her to take out huge chunks of them at once with some well placed honey globs. She’s pretty sure PETA is gonna tear her a new one after all’s said and done, but she’d like to see  _ them _ come up with something better. Besides, the Miraculous Cure will take care of the downed birds. 

The real highlight of this Akuma fight is that she’s finally fighting alongside Ladybug and Cat Noir; the pigeon fleet hasn’t done much in the way of destruction of public property, and Mr. Pigeon himself seems quite content with duking it out with the Miraculous Holders inside the  _ Grand Palais _ , away from any potential civilian involvement, having been swiftly evacuated beforehand. The trio is, then, free to wallop away to their hearts’ content, and it’s like nothing Chloé’s ever experienced. Not just the fighting - that’s kind of like living out a comic book, but she’s kinda getting used to it - but the absolute trust shared between the three masked heroes. She knows the duo has her back, and proves to them, in turn, that she’ll protect them to the best of her abilities. Her only disappointment is that the fight is over before she can even think to use her Hive Mind ability.

Mr. Pigeon is brought down by being covered in popcorn and attacked by his own feathered pals. It’s  _ incredibly stupid _ , but... _ c’est la vie d’une héroïne. _

“Bye-bye, little butterfly.” -Ladybug coos, as her yo-yo releases the purified Akuma. Shortly afterwards, the coin she summoned and used to cover the villain in buttery popcorn is thrown into the air, whereupon it bursts into a billion magic ladybugs, and restores Paris to its normal state.

“Pound it!” -Ladybug and Cat Noir shout, in unison, bumping their fists together in celebration. The pair look to her, and offer to repeat the gesture with her. She rolls her eyes, but swiftly joins in.

Cat Noir smirks at her, his sharp fangs glinting in the sunlight. “We should do this more often.” -he says.

“As well as that went, you  _ probably _ shouldn’t call for  _ more _ supervillain encounters, kitty.” -Ladybug gently chastises. “It’s only a matter of time before he sends something stronger again.”

Cat’s ring beeps - he used his Cataclysm earlier in the fight, so his timer’s nearing the end. “Guess that’s my cue.” -he says, then nods at the dazed-looking man that used to be a supervillain. “Shall I take him?”

Ladybug nods. “Take him to  _ Trocadéro _ . I’ve seen him wandering around the place.”

“Tell him I  _ will _ bury him in honey if he keeps feeding the pigeons.” -Chloé says, crossing her arms.

Ladybug raises an eyebrow. Chloé shakes her head. “ _ Kidding _ , Ladybug.”

The spotted heroine hums. “I’ll talk to you later, Cat. I wanna chat with Queen Bee, here.”

The feline-themed hero winks at the bluenette. “Sure thing, Bugaboo.”

Cat Noir takes the confused, middle-aged twig of a man, and gives him a piggyback ride out of the building. Chloé snorts as the man’s shrieks fade off into the distance.

Ladybug’s earrings beep, too. “Sounds like you should be on your way, too.” -Chloé says.

The bluenette crosses her arms. “I’ve got a few minutes.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Do you know who I am?” -Ladybug asks.

Chloé frowns. “Uh...no, no idea.”

“And Cat Noir?”

“Same deal.”

Ladybug purses her lips. “Would you like to know?”

Well,  _ fuck _ . Isn’t  _ that _ a loaded question.

“Where’s this coming from?” -Queen Bee asks.

“I know who Cat is, under the mask. He knows who I am, too. And I’ve been thinking - maybe it’s not very fair, you being kept in the dark. It might help us coordinate a little better. Cat wouldn’t have known to come and help with Mr. Ramier if I hadn’t known about the Akuma and told him.”

Chloé shakes her head. “Didn’t your Kwamis tell you to keep your identities a secret?”

“Mine did.” -she says. “Cat’s...not so much. But it couldn’t be helped - I was forced to turn in order to save a friend, and Cat saw me do it.” -she explains, and blushes. “I’m glad he’s who he is. No one I’d rather have with me, through this.”

Chloé sighs, dramatically. “There goes my chance to romance you, huh?”

Ladybug laughs. “So  _ forward! _ I appreciate that.” -she says. “You’d be right. Cat and I have...something  _ special _ . Promise, though, you’ll be the first to know, should that change.”

It’s Chloé’s turn to blush. “Talk about  _ forward _ .” -she mutters. “ _ No _ , to answer your question. I don’t wanna know who you are. I’m shitty enough at my  _ own _ secret identity to be made aware of anyone else’s. Besides, I think my, uh... _ performance _ against Blind Date should be proof enough that I’m the weak link, when it comes to Miraculous Holders. I’m not much of a fighter - not like either of you.”

“Oh, Bee...you bring  _ so much _ to the table, never forget that. I’m glad the Bee Miraculous chose you.” -she tries to reassure her.

Chloé purses her lips. “Yeah, well. You might not feel that way, if you knew who I was.”

“Have you killed anyone lately? Stolen from the poor, perhaps? Kicked a puppy?”

The blonde rolls her eyes. “What’s your point?”

Ladybug places a hand on her shoulder, even as the earrings beep again. “You and I  _ both _ know a Miraculous will never willingly bond with someone impure of heart. Hawk Moth corrupted his, somehow, but I don’t feel that kind of stain on you - and  _ trust me _ , I’d  _ know _ . You may not be a model citizen, but I believe, same as your Kwami I’d bet, that you are, at your core, a  _ good person _ .”

Chloé allows herself a small smile. As much as she  _ usually _ disbelieves this kind of pep talk, it’s hard to deny, coming from this... _ paragon of virtue _ standing before her. “So I keep hearing.”

“Must be true, then.” -Ladybug winks. “Paris  _ needs _ you.  _ I _ need you. Contrary to popular belief, I can’t do this alone.”

“You have Cat Noir.” -Chloé mutters.

“True, but you  _ know _ he’s not very objective when it comes to me. You’ve seen how many times he’s tried to save me - usually, by sacrificing his own well-being. As much as I love and appreciate Cat Noir, I also need a partner with a clear head - someone who won’t drop everything the minute I’m in danger.”

Chloé recalls not just the times she’s seen the pair fight together, but the rooftop conversation she had with the feline-themed hero. “You’re not wrong. But he’s right about one thing; if you fall,  _ Paris _ falls.”

She sighs. “I’m aware. And as the city’s self-appointed protector, I promise to do everything I can to keep that from happening.” -she vows, then crosses her arms as the earrings beep again. “But I’m also just a  _ teenager _ , under all this. I can only take seeing him risk - and, god forbid,  _ lose _ \- his life for me so many times. I can’t ask him to make the hard calls...so I’m hoping I can trust you to.”

The blonde winces, the hurt in Ladybug’s voice all too clear. “ _ Fuck _ , Ladybug.”

“Heavy stuff for a fifteen year-old to worry about, huh?”

“ _ No shit _ .”

Ladybug offers her a small smile. “I’m glad Cat and I have someone else to commiserate with.” -she says. “So, can I trust you?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘hard calls’. I’m not about to go  _ killing  _ anyone.” -she says, raising an eyebrow.

The spotted heroine purses her lips. “I don’t know if Hawk Moth can Akumatize us when we’re transformed, but I have no reason to doubt it. Given his megalomaniacal introductory boast, I imagine that, should he Akumatize me, he’d celebrate his victory by having me inflict as much damage as possible on the city and people I love. So, while I’m not asking you to  _ kill _ me…” -she says, then looks her in the eyes, bluebell irises meeting golden ones. “Would you take my place? Take the earrings from me, and become the Ladybug Holder?”

Chloé’s eyes widen in shock. “Take...that would  _ expose you _ , for all of Paris to see! Hawk Moth would  _ know _ , you’d never be able to become Ladybug again…”

“And I’d lose Tikki.” -she surmises. “I know.  _ Believe me _ , I don’t even want to  _ imagine  _ losing her. But Ladybug’s duty to the people of Paris is more important than my feelings. And Cat, even if I could trust him to take me down, can never become the Ladybug Holder - to even  _ wear _ both of our Miraculouses could potentially destabilize the  _ fabric of reality _ .”

“Ladybug, are you  _ sure _ ? Isn’t there anyone else in your life you’d rather trust with something so massive?”

Ladybug smirks, amused by some unheard joke. “No one who’s already familiar with the Miraculouses.” -she says. “ _ Please _ , Bee. I need the peace of mind.”

Queen Bee nods, after some time, offering her hand. Ladybug shakes it - and  _ holy shit _ , she’s even stronger than Chloé is, no contest. Chloé can’t even  _ imagine _ being that powerful.

All she’s left with is hoping she never has to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your attention! Make sure to comment or message me if you have any questions about this story. Look me up on Twitter as Darthkvzn or Tumblr as darthkvznblogs if you'd like - and on Ko-fi, as Darthkvzn, if you like what I do and have a coffee's worth of money to spare. No worries if not!
> 
> Until next time!


	11. Feedback, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miraculously allowed to hang out with Adrien, Chloé gets the brilliant idea of throwing him a party for his upcoming birthday; however, it becomes painfully clear that Gabriel will never allow something like that to happen - something Chloé, of course, isn't about to take lying down.
> 
> Of course, the task ahead will not be easy; if Gabriel finds out, he'll likely punish Adrien harshly, and it seems like the recluse fashion designer might have eyes and ears everywhere...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an abnormally quick turnaround, so definitely don't get used to it! It's just that I've been pretty excited about getting to this part of the story. Plus, last chapter got an amazing reception, so this story has been on my mind 24/7. Thank you for your support, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (And thanks again to StellarStylus for beta reading!)

“You must’ve felt like you were in a sports animé.” -Chloé teases, swirling the dwindling contents of her drink with a straw.

Adrien blushes slightly as he daintily sips his own beverage. “No, nothing so glamorous. I felt... _ sweaty _ , and nervous, and I’m  _ pretty sure _ my saber almost slipped from my grip. I’m only lucky my opponent tripped in the first round. Lost his confidence, I think.”

“‘Trip’ is putting it mildly; almost lost an  _ eye _ , it looked like. Not that I know  _ much  _ about fencing, but I’ve never seen anyone almost  _ poke their own eye out _ in the Olympics.”

“Well, we’re... _ pretty _ far removed from that kind of skill level.” -he says, rubbing the back of his head.

“So you claim, and yet you’ve picked up enough about fencing to represent  _ Fran _ _ ç _ _ ois Dupont _ in,  _ what _ , a few weeks? A month, at most? That’s  _ impressive _ , Adrikins.”

“Thanks. Frankly though, I think  _ Monsieur _ D’Argencourt was just kinda desperate for volunteers. There’s better fencers than me in class, but I don’t think they want him to focus too much on them. He’s a  _ bit _ overzealous, at the best of times.”

Chloé snorts. “You’re too kind. Man’s a lunatic.”

“Oh, he’s just...a very  _ frustrated _ individual. Can’t imagine running for office and being defeated in landslide elections four times in a row.”

“Like I said;  _ lunatic _ . Something about doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

Chloé noisily slurps up the remainder of her iced decaf latte with soy milk, an extra shot, and sugar free syrup, much to Adrien’s chagrin. 

“You know I  _ really  _ don’t like it when you do that, right?” -he says, wincing through the noise.

The blonde smirks. She does, in fact, know - Adrien’s the kind of guy who keeps his TV volume in the single digits. She’s not sure if it’s more a result of him being conditioned never to speak out of turn in front of his father, or spending most of his childhood with a mother whose constitution was, by all accounts, _notoriously_ frail. In any case, annoying him like this is, she thinks, a fitting punishment for him being no more adventurous with his coffee order than a _decaf_ _cappuccino_. “Why do you think I do it?”

He shakes his head, all drama and no seriousness. “And so I’m left to wonder why I fought tooth and nail for this opportunity to hang out.”

Chloé sticks her tongue out, then narrows her eyes. “ _ Speaking _ of which, I’m surprised Gabriel even let you slip away like this. I might even hate him a  _ smidge _ less, just for today.”

“ _ Yeah _ ...you  _ might _ want to hold your horses in that front.” -he says, visibly struggling not to look annoyed. “I’m pretty sure Father’s only let me have this because he doesn’t intend to let me celebrate my birthday.”

Chloé’s pretty sure a vein in her forehead spontaneously bursts. “ _ Fucking _ what?”

Adrien gives her a small, sad smile. “Got a pretty important photoshoot coming up - Father pushed it back to my birthday. I’ll give you three guesses as to when the shoot was  _ originally  _ meant to happen.”

“It was today, wasn’t it?” -Chloé surmises, her blood boiling. Adrien nods, somewhat glum. “What the _fuck_ kind of _cartoon villain_ _bullshit_ is that?”

“If it helps, I don’t think he was  _ ever  _ gonna let me have anything  _ remotely _ close to a birthday party. This is the best I’m getting.” -he says. “And don’t get me wrong, it  _ is _ the best, getting to hang out with you again. It’s just...I really wanted to invite everyone in class, this year.”

Chloé can almost see it; Gabriel Agreste nearly  _ retching _ at the thought of opening the Agreste manor’s gates to the unwashed masses of...one of Paris’ most prestigious high schools. Gabe’s always been something of a paranoid hypochondriac, but ever since Emilie’s passing he’s reached near  _ Howard Hughes _ levels of isolation. It’s almost  _ criminal _ that he forces Adrien to conform to that lifestyle - if it can even be  _ called _ a life.

“That’s it; I’m planning you a surprise party.” -Chloé says.

Adrien blinks. “Call me sheltered, but I, uh...don’t think that’s how surprise parties  _ work _ , Chlo.”

She gives him a predatory smirk. “The surprise isn’t for  _ you _ , dummy. It’s for your  _ emotionally stunted asshole  _ of a father.”

The teenaged model frowns. “I...don’t think that’s a great idea, Chloé. Father  _ hates _ surprises, and he hates parties. We  _ probably _ shouldn’t combine the two.”

“Adrien, you  _ deserve  _ to celebrate your birthday,  _ period _ . I’ll get in a shouting match with Gabriel if I need to.  _ Fuck _ , I’ll call Daddy, see how he can abuse his power this time.”

Adrien shakes his head. “I’m really grateful, Chloé, but  _ please _ , don’t do anything like this. I know Father has his shortcomings, but I  _ am _ making progress. Convincing him to let me attend school is  _ already _ such a huge win…I just  _ know _ , if I keep him happy, he’ll loosen up a bit. Maybe I can even have a party next year!”

Chloé knows better; this is hardly the first time this kind of logic comes up when discussing Gabriel Agreste. She’s heard it from Adrien before - hell, she’s pretty sure even Emilie thought something along those lines, from what she remembers. Gabriel hasn’t changed a bit, and Chloé’s pretty sure that will remain the case.

She sighs. “ _ Fine _ . But now I’m upset, so you  _ better  _ join me on a shopping spree. Pick out your birthday present while we’re at it.”

Adrien chuckles. “As much as I’d love that, I only have half an hour or so until I have to get back.”

“That just turns the shopping spree into a  _ timed _ shopping spree.” -she says, pulling out one of the fifty euro bills Nathaniel rejected out of her purse, and leaving it as a tip. Adrien must notice, because he gives her a very genuine smile that kinda says ‘ _ I knew you had it in you _ ’ when he thinks she’s not looking.

She does, much to her eternal surprise. It’s still such a little  _ thrill _ to do things like these, to surprise people who thought they knew what to expect of her before Stoneheart with such simple gestures of kindness and generosity. Adrien’s never really bought her  _ tough bitch _ exterior, but he doesn’t realize just how  _ close  _ it came to being her default. If not for the Bee Miraculous, for the perspective her imminent death at the hands of Stoneheart brought her, she might’ve been even worse by now. But she has almost everything going for her right now, so she’ll be damned if something so  _ trivial  _ as Gabriel’s ego is going to get in her way.

All she needs now is to gather the right allies.

* * *

Marinette’s window is open, per their agreement. Chloé still raps her knuckles against the crystal, just in case the brunette isn’t decent.

“Come in.” -she mutters, sounding  _ way _ past exhausted.

Chloé winces as she enters and sheds the transformation, Pollen zooming around the room.  _ Maybe _ coming in at two in the morning wasn’t the best idea. Then again, Marinette’s been super busy lately, so she hasn’t exactly had the chance to corner her at school with her party ideas.

Marinette looks even more tired than she sounds; her eyes are bruised enough that not even the best concealer would be able to hide them, and her normally bright blue eyes seem painfully glassy. “Hey, Chloé.” -she greets.

“This was a bad idea, wasn’t it?” -she says, pursing her lips

Her former rival shakes her head, giving Pollen a dainty little pat on the noggin. “No, don’t worry. I’ve still got a few hours in me.” -she says, lifting her current project up for her to see - a pale blue scarf that wouldn’t look out of place in trendy little  _ haute couture _ winter line-up.

“Looks good. Who’s it for?”

“Adrien.” -she says, then tries and fails to contain a yawn. “His birthday’s coming up.”

Chloé rolls her eyes. “ _ I know _ . Lifelong friend, remember?”

“... _ right _ .” -Marinette says. “I need to finish it tonight, so I can be free to work on the bowler hat for the contest tomorrow. Plus, I need to finish my part for our project…” -she trails off.

Indeed, the unfinished hat sits on a nearby table, surrounded by...black feathers?  _ What _ , did she get her inspiration from freakin’  _ Mr. Pigeon? _ The blonde sits on the little alcove beneath her window. “Send what you have over, I’ll finish it for you.” -she finds herself saying.

Marinette shakes her head. “That wouldn’t be fair to you. You’re already done with your part  _ and _ you’ve taken it upon yourself to present before class. I can’t ask you to do this.”

“You  _ can _ , and you  _ should _ . That’s what team efforts are  _ supposed  _ to be about, aren’t they?”

“Chloé, you’ve worked your fair share.”

She snorts. “Let’s not kid ourselves, here. My part of the PowerPoint is gonna be  _ shitty _ , and you  _ know  _ it. I’m a fucking  _ great  _ presenter, but we both know I can’t be bothered with the nitty gritty shit.”

“Well, then I’ve  _ got _ to compensate for the... _ subpar _ slides.” -Marinette snarks.

“I swear to  _ God _ , Marinette, if you don’t let me help you, I’ll send the presentation over to Bustier as is.”

“Oh, you  _ know _ she’d let me send a finished version.”

“I’ll have the city cut off her Internet connection.”

Marinette tilts her head. “You  _ do _ know Internet service in Paris isn’t offered by the government, right?”

Chloé shrugs. “Political favors beat your facts.”

The brunette laughs. “ _ Fine _ , fine. I’ll send over what I’ve got so far. I’ll owe you one.”

“Well, you’re about to owe me  _ two _ .” -Chloé says. “I’m planning a surprise party for Adrien.”

_ That _ wakes Marinette up. “ _ Monsieur _ Agreste is never going to agree to that.”

Chloé groans. “Who the  _ fuck _ cares what that old  _ jackass _ thinks? The man purposefully set up a photoshoot  _ on his birthday _ . He doesn’t get to stop us from countering that much of a  _ dick move _ .”

“He  _ shouldn’t _ , but he  _ does _ .” -Marinette says, glum. “You know  _ Monsieur _ Agreste better than I do, but from what Adrien’s told me, he’ll  _ retaliate  _ \- and  _ we _ won’t be the ones he’ll target. He might even pull Adrien from school.”

“Then we make it so Gabriel doesn’t ever find out.” -Chloé says. “Disguise the whole thing as a school event, or something like that. Something Gabe won’t suspect.”

Marinette hums. “I don’t know, Chloé... _ believe me _ , I want nothing more than to make him feel loved on such a special day, but there’s a  _ lot _ working against us. His driver,  _ Mlle. _ Sancoeur...one stray picture or social media post, and  _ Monsieur  _ Agreste would most likely find out.”

“Confiscate phones, cameras, etcétera at the entrance.” -Chloé says. “Delay the start of the  _ actual  _ party so Gabriel’s  _ goons _ don’t get suspicious. Maybe we can even ask Bustier to help us make it look more official.”

The brunette purses her lips. “What did Adrien have to say about this?”

“Oh, something along the lines of your  _ litany  _ of complaints. You two really are made for each other.” -she says, sarcastic, then crosses her arms. “But we can’t let that stuck-up  _ bastard  _ win.”

“He’s Adrien’s dad; as much as I disagree with his methods, I doubt  _ Monsieur _ Agreste is  _ purposefully  _ trying to be cruel. He’s just  _ really  _ overprotective - and I get it, after the loss of  _ Madame _ Agreste.”

Chloé huffs. “Well  _ I _ don’t.”

Marinette gives her a sad smile. “I know. You’re kind of on the opposite side of the parenting style spectrum.”

The blonde narrows her eyes. “ _ Watch it _ , Dupain-Cheng. Just because we have something of an  _ understanding  _ doesn’t mean I’ll let you talk  _ shit  _ about my Daddy.”

“I’m not criticizing.” -she says, raising her arms in surrender. “Just stating a fact.  _ Maire _ Bourgeois has let you have free reign over Paris for  _ years _ , now -  _ useful _ , now that you’re a superhero, but you can’t deny that it also led you to develop some... _ less than ideal  _ attitudes.”

Pollen returns from her exploration and nuzzles up to Chloé’s cheek, before cozily nesting inside her ponytail. The blonde deflates a bit, knowing all too well the truth behind Marinette’s words. “Yeah, well. Unhealthy coping mechanisms abound, I guess.”

“It’s ok. We wouldn’t be talking if I didn’t know you were improving, superheroine or not.” -Marinette reassures her. 

“ _ Right. _ ”

The brunette turns to her computer. “I have some... _ conditions _ , if we’re going to do this.”

Chloé raises an eyebrow. “ _ Someone’s  _ had a change of heart.”

“Like I said; I already wanted to make Adrien’s birthday special.” -Marinette shrugs. “You’re just the enabler in this situation.”

“Well, state your demands, then.”

Marinette grins. “You pay for the catering.”

“Oh,  _ please _ , step it up. You  _ truly _ have no idea of what my monthly allowance is, do you?”

“And I don’t  _ want _ to know.” -Marinette snarks. “Two: we get  _ Mlle.  _ Bustier involved. You’re right; the most sensible way to do this is to pass it off as a school event - something Adrien  _ must _ attend, that his father would have no choice but to allow.”

“I’d  _ already  _ suggested including Bustier, but  _ sure _ . I’ll let her know.”

Marinette ignores her barb. “...and three: we don’t take on all of this by ourselves. We need to split everything up, make sure everyone in class contributes. Not just because it’ll be easier on us, but because everyone should get a chance to show Adrien how much they appreciate them.”

“ _ Christ _ , I almost forgot how much of a fucking  _ saint _ you are.” -Chloé says, shaking her head. It’s a good idea, though; it might sound pretentious to say  _ everyone _ in class likes Adrien, but the blond just has that effect on people. Much like Marinette, they both have some kind of  _ elle ne sait quoi _ that just draws people in. Maybe it’s just that they’re genuinely good people, unlike Chloé - ongoing attempt to change her ways, and all. “As much as I’d rather just... _ hire _ people to do it for us, it’d look more legit if we’re all contributing to the event anyway.”

The exhausted looking girl gets some pep back. “Yeah! Nino’s gonna be so happy!”

Chloé blinks. “Yeah, you  _ lost _ me there.”

“Nino made a mixtape for Adrien’s birthday - when he  _ thought _ Adrien was allowed to have birthday parties. He got so  _ sad  _ when Adrien told him he couldn’t.” -she explains. “He’s gonna be  _ overjoyed _ when he finds out what we’re planning.”

Chloé snorts. “Just make sure Lahiffe gets the whole  _ ‘secret party’ _ idea. You  _ know _ the guy doesn’t  _ do _ half measures...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your attention! Make sure to comment or message me if you have any questions about this story. Look me up on Twitter as Darthkvzn or Tumblr as darthkvznblogs if you'd like - and on Ko-fi, as Darthkvzn, if you like what I do and have a coffee's worth of money to spare. No worries if not!
> 
> Another two parter! This is the Bubbler episode...except the Bubbler won't actually make an appearance. It's a really weird Akuma that doesn't really fit the character - like, when has Nino ever shown any interest in bubbles since? Such strange choices. As the chapter name suggests, he'll become a sound based villain. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Until next time!


	12. Feedback, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The preparations for Adrien's surprise birthday party have gone well - no thanks to the general hatred Chloé's classmates still demonstrate towards her. Pollen's always there to offer a kind word, though - even if the tiny goddess' humor can be a bit macabre.
> 
> As the night of the party comes, a new obstacle comes to light - Nathalie Sancoeur, Gabriel's right hand and Adrien's all-around minder, seems to be suspicious...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Sorry this took so long. It's been kind of hard to focus with...well, everything going on right now. If you're feeling the same way, I hope this chapter - though shorter than usual - helps!
> 
> Special thanks to StellarStylus for his help in beta reading this chapter!

Chloé’s far from the most observant person out there, but she’s  _ pretty  _ sure she’s being watched.

It’s gone on for at least a week - the feeling of someone’s gaze on the back of her head seemingly present every time she steps foot out of the  _ Grand Paris, _ a glimpse of a small figure, flashes of green on the corner of her eye - and she’s starting to get  _ annoyed. _ She’s used to being stared at, of course - comes with being a more or less public figure, and a beautiful young woman, even if most of the men throwing leery glances her way aren’t  _ at all _ young enough to have any business looking at her that way.

Plus, y’know. They’re  _ men. _

But the feeling she’s gotten lately is squarely of the  _ stalker _ variety, which has her itching to put on the black and yellow and go hunting for potential criminally obsessed individuals.

Unfortunately, she’s a  _ bit  _ busy with party preparations. It’s been  _ frustrating, _ getting things ready. She’s got the funds and a vindictive drive to show up Gabriel Agreste going for her, but a  _ major  _ obstacle for her plans - and her conversation with Nathaniel  _ really _ should’ve served as a preview - evidenced itself the  _ moment _ she brought up the idea to her classmates: everyone in class - save for Adrien, Marinette, and  _ maybe _ Nath now - fucking  _ hates her guts. _

There’s a veritable  _ laundry list _ of valid causes behind this, of course. She’s known most of the people in class for years, by now, and except for Adrien, they’ve only ever known her at her worst - as the narcissistic, privileged  _ bitch _ who’d tear down anyone, even her supposed  _ best friend, _ at the slightest provocation. And if there’s anything Chloé’s learned in the few days she’s been trying to convince them to help out, it’s that there is absolutely  _ no way _ to mend fences in such a short span of time.

It’s only because she pleads for Marinette and Caline to intervene that any progress really happens, but even then, they have to break down the fact that, yes, Chloé and Adrien really  _ did _ grow up together, and yes, Chloé  _ is, _ in fact,  _ emotionally capable of friendship _ \- a concept that, apparently, puts  _ significant  _ strain on their ability to suspend disbelief.

It’d be  _ hilarious, _ if it weren’t such a  _ fucking  _ sucker punch.

Pollen soothingly strokes her forehead as insomnia and anxiety torment her for the third night in a row. “They just don’t know you, my Queen. Not the  _ real _ you.”

“They  _ did, _ though. I really  _ was _ the person they hate. I still am, even if I’m trying to be better.”

“They will come to see the difference, I’m sure. People change, Chloé.”

“We really  _ don’t, _ Pollen. We choose to express different sides of ourselves more  _ overtly, _ maybe, but the things that makes us who we are never really go away.”

The tiny goddess shakes her head. “Forgive me, but I really  _ must  _ disagree. My biggest blessing and curse throughout the eons has undoubtedly been watching your species progress - and it is indeed  _ change,  _ Chloé, that which is humanity’s most defining trait. The ability to adapt, through blood, sweat, and tears, to your every circumstance. And though I have seen the worst of your greed, cruelty, and hatred, I have also been witness to your selflessness, kindness, and most important of all,  _ love. _ ” -she says, with all the authority an immortal can bolster. “I’ve held the hands of a thousand dying Holders in mine, by now. Not all of them were  _ great  _ at this - and only a few could be considered true heroes. But they were all  _ good,  _ Chloé. I’ll tell you this as many times, and in as many ways as you need me to: I did  _ not  _ make an exception for you. I picked someone worthy of my immense power, at a moment in history that she was needed - and though it is only you that holds your own fate in your hands, I trust that you will live up to the mantle of the Bee.”

Chloé shakes her head. “You keep giving me  _ entirely _ too much credit. You, and Bustier, and Marinette, and even  _ Ladybug. _ ” -she says, pretending to be annoyed, but ultimately gives her partner a small smirk. “So, where do I rank? Where does Queen Bee fit in the whole  _ pantheon,  _ or whatever?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re about to die.” -Pollen says, sarcastic.

“ _ Fuck,  _ that’s macabre.”

“ _ C’est la vie. _ ” -Pollen shrugs.

“Do you think this secret party idea is a mistake, too?” -Chloé asks.

“Considering there’s a chance Adrien’s father will find out and shut everything down, maybe so. All that sadness and disappointment...it’d draw Hawk Moth’s attention  _ for sure. _ ” -Pollen says. “But...I think it’s worth it. Adrien’s such a nice young man, so compassionate and kind. He deserves to be celebrated.”

Chloé hums. “I just don’t understand how Gabriel can treat him like this. You’d have thought losing Emilie would’ve softened him up, but...if anything, he seems even harsher, more extreme.”

“Grief is a  _ powerful  _ motivator, both for good and ill.” -Pollen says. “It’ll change a person’s life, almost always - and it seems it changed  _ Monsieur  _ Agreste’s life for worse. It’s... _ sad, _ even if his actions are more than reprehensible.”

“I don’t know, Pollen. Shutting down, I get. Lashing out - well, that’s me in a nutshell, isn’t it?” -she rolls her eyes just  _ thinking _ of her recent past. “But to lose someone you love and treat the one person who  _ gets it _ like  _ shit? _ It’s just... _ incomprehensible, _ to me.”

Pollen sighs. “I sincerely doubt Adrien’s father is acting logically. Love, both gained and lost, will make you humans do the  _ damnedest  _ things.”

* * *

Nathalie Sancoeur is the first to step out of Adrien’s limousine, which  _ immediately _ puts Chloé on edge. 

Gabriel’s assistant is _infamous_ for being the actual brains behind the Agreste empire; it’s a well known fact that _Monsieur_ Agreste’s genius extends only to the actual _fashion,_ and not to the inner workings of the industry itself - and that Mlle. Sancoeur _more_ than compensates for his lacking business sense with her own sharp wit and merciless approach to dealing with both their allies in the industry and the competition.

She could carry a Shark Tank panel by herself _ , _ to put it simply.

Chloé forces herself to calm down. The school, at the very least, looks the part - the front chosen for Adrien’s party is the inauguration of an indie film festival, a week-long event during which Mlle. Bustier’s class will watch several films created by fellow Parisians, and create their own, to be entered into a regional competition next month. Normally, something like this wouldn’t be enough to keep Gabriel from stealing Adrien away for whatever devious time-waster he’s concocted, but thanks to Caline’s devious wiles, the event became  _ mandatory, _ as roles for the student production will be assigned after the ceremony. Bustier even pulled some strings and had Principal Damocles send every student a signed invitation-slash-summons.

When it comes to making her students happy, Caline does  _ not _ mess around.

In any case, there’s a huge banner right above the gates, a bouncer - it’s just Ivan, but he  _ looks  _ menacing enough - and everyone’s dressed to the nines. She goes down the steps to meet Adrien, only to be halted by Nathalie.

“Mlle. Bourgeois.” -she says, raising a perfectly delineated eyebrow. “It’s been a long time.”

_ Not long enough, _ Chloé thinks, returning the ice-cold stare she’s getting. “Well, I  _ am _ banned from Gabriel’s mansion, aren’t I?”

Nathalie smirks, almost imperceptibly. “Your increasingly  _ erratic  _ behavior and self-destructive tendencies rendered you unfit to see Adrien any longer -  _ surely _ you understand  _ Monsieur _ Agreste’s concern?” -she says, her voice practically  _ dripping  _ with condescension. 

“Cut the  _ shit  _ and let Adrien out, Nathalie.” -Chloé sneers. “It’s bad enough your boss fucked up his birthday, the  _ least _ you can do is let him see his friends.”

“ _ Monsieur  _ Agreste’s every action and thought is dedicated to Adrien’s well-being.” -she says, fervently. “No matter  _ how _ unfair it might seem to a  _ teenager. _ ”

“ _ Incredible. _ You  _ almost _ sound like you believe it, too.” -Chloé shakes her head.

“Considering your  _ own  _ parental situation, I’m hardly surprised you wouldn’t.” -Nathalie retorts. “Clearly, the unfortunate absence of authority figures around you has only exacerbated your issues with discipline and respect. I don’t expect your... _ ban,  _ as you put it, will be lifted anytime soon.”

Inside, Chloé bristles at the low blow. “Fine by me. I’m sure I see Adrien more often than Gabriel ever deigns to, anyway.” -she shrugs.

Nathalie scowls, clearly fed up with her flippant attitude. “ _ Monsieur _ Agreste’s occupations may keep him from Adrien more often than not, but he’s  _ far  _ from ignorant about his situation; Adrien’s continued presence at  _ Fran _ _ çois Dupont _ is contingent on my reports and conclusions regarding his studies, extracurricular activities, and, most relevant to our discussion, the  _ relationships  _ he develops at school.” -she warns. “Continue to prove a negative influence on his growth, and you may just find yourself proving  _ Monsieur _ Agreste’s preference for homeschooling Adrien correct.”

It’s a threat, plain and simple - one she has no doubt Nathalie would follow through on. Chloé’s urge to go Bee and teach some  _ lessons  _ intensifies, but it would  _ probably _ be some kind of superhero  _ faux pas. _ Ultimately she just shakes her head, disgusted. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t be surprised if Adrien wants nothing to do with you the  _ minute  _ he turns eighteen.”

The blonde turns around to leave, but is stopped by Nathalie’s hand on her shoulder. Chloé has half a mind to turn around and slap it off, but something in the ravenette’s expression stops her - something vaguely approaching  _ compassion, _ if Gabe’s right hand is even capable of such a thing. “Wait, Chloé.” -she says. “I...you’re  _ right. _ Insofar as it concerns Adrien deserving a better birthday, at least.” -she admits.

Chloé frowns. Where’s she going with this?

“I know this isn’t a simple inauguration ceremony. Gabriel... _ doesn’t. _ I’d like to keep it that way.”

“ _ Why _ are you telling me this?”

“Because I know that you genuinely care for Adrien. And despite our  _ vastly _ different approaches to it, we both just want what’s best for him.” -she says. “Adrien  _ needs _ the structure, the discipline, but...perhaps we’ve been a bit too harsh on him.”

Chloé snorts. “You  _ think? _ ”

“I’ll be honest: I  _ don’t _ like you. Neither does  _ Monsieur  _ Agreste.” -she says, practically grumbling. “But Adrien is... _ happy, _ to have you back in his life. So, for  _ his _ sake...I’ll look the other way. So long as you behave as responsibly as possible, of course.”

Her nostrils flare out in anger at the sheer  _ hypocrisy _ on display, but Chloé knows it’s not worth the trouble. Adrien’s here - has probably been watching the two of them go at it for the last five minutes - and he’s ostensibly been given  _ ‘permission’ _ to party. She’ll figure out what the hell to do about Nathalie and Gabriel later.  _ Probably. _

So, she puts her hand out. “ _ Fine.  _ Deal.”

Nathalie nods, and shakes her hand. She then goes to the limo, and holds the door open for a bewildered looking Adrien - Marinette’s scarf around his neck, looking  _ very _ fashionable. 

“Hey, Chloé.” -he greets, a kiss to each cheek.

“Hey yourself.”

He glances back as the limo departs. “So...do I wanna know what all that fuss was about?”

“Nope.” -Chloé says. “I’m not sure I even know myself, but it doesn’t matter now. It’s your night, and we’re gonna fucking celebrate accordingly.”

Adrien pales, half excited, half terrified. “Oh dear.  _ Please  _ tell me you didn’t.”

“I’m  _ me,  _ of  _ course _ I fucking did.”

“Chloé, we’re gonna get in so much trouble!”

“You don’t know the  _ half _ of it, Adrikins.” -she says, then pulls him towards the entrance. “Now come on, let’s party!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your attention! Make sure to comment or message me if you have any questions about this story. Look me up on Twitter as Darthkvzn or Tumblr as darthkvznblogs if you'd like - and on Ko-fi, as Darthkvzn, if you like what I do and have a coffee's worth of money to spare.
> 
> I think some - myself included - might find Nathalie's sudden turn to kindness a bit odd or jarring, but you need to keep in mind that she lives an interesting dichotomy; she loves Adrien like he's family, yet continually endangers him by aiding Hawk Moth - not even considering his dual identity, just like, as a civilian. It might not have come across as well as it could've, but that's the gist of her mindset - maybe she's genuinely trying to give Adrien the birthday Gabriel wouldn't, maybe she's just hoping this party'll lead to heartbreak and a powerful Akuma. With Nathalie, it's hard to tell.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Until next time!


	13. Feedback, part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party gets on, finally, but Chloé can tell - aside from Adrien and Marinette, the others don't care for her presence. To make matters worse, an attempt to distance herself from the hostile atmosphere leads her to see Adrien and Marinette in private, all but confirming the way they feel about each other.
> 
> And if all of *that* wasn't enough, it seems Gabriel has found out about the party, and incredibly enough, he's come to take matters into his own hands for once...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, this one was fun to write! Took me about two whole days, and a TON of caffeine (shameless Ko-fi plug, haha), but I think it turned out real cool! I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Content warning: multiple none-too-descriptive injuries, temporary character deaths. Nothing Mortal Kombat-y, but things get rough towards the middle, so be aware!

The opening ceremony lasts about fifteen minutes, if that. Chloé hardly pays attention, too busy watching the crowd for any signs that Gabriel has sent someone to ruin their plans for the night. Call her paranoid, but the man turned his manor into a fortress for no real reason anyone can discern, other than perhaps an intensified disgust of society at large, spurred by the loss of his wife, who by all accounts was something of a  _ buffer  _ between her husband and, y’know,  _ people. _

Thankfully, no suspicious red streaks or abnormally tall, mute bodyguards appear. Soon as old man Damocles is done with his speech, the class puts on their best impression of a pit crew and swaps everything out for the previously prepared party supplies - balloons, lights, drinks, snacks, enough confetti to ensure  _ Fran _ _ ç _ _ ois Dupont _ will be haunted by the tiny paper dots for  _ decades, _ and everything in between - in absolutely  _ record time. _ Kind of a more... _ childish _ setup than Chloé would’ve liked, but Adrien hasn’t had a birthday party since he was  _ ten, _ so she and Marinette ended up agreeing on a more low-key affair. 

Nino’s setup is, she’ll admit, pretty impressive - an entry level set of turntables, a fairly professional-looking mixer, and some headphones even  _ she _ knows are expensive. The dinky laptop he’s using could use an  _ update, _ but for a fifteen year-old, it’s cool as hell. The music is...not Chloé’s cup of tea. She’s an 80’s rock ballad kinda girl - one of the few things she  _ truly  _ has in common with her father - and Nino’s selection is mostly high energy, higher bassline, jump-in-place kinda music. It definitely gets the partygoers dancing, but Chloé mostly stays in her own, dark corner, sipping on the wine glass Caline mysteriously handed her before leaving, and wincing every time the colorful lights flash by her eyes.

Chloé tries to bask in the success of the party, she  _ really  _ does. Adrien is obviously having the time of his life - cried, actually, when everyone shouted  _ ‘joyeux anniversaire, Adrien!’ _ \- and thus, her main objective of sticking a big middle finger to Gabriel has been completed. But there’s an unspoken barrier between her and the party, besides the choice of music; if the class hadn’t made it clear that they haven’t forgiven Chloé - and they did - then the fact that most everyone ignores her is proof enough.

Sure, Marinette checks in on her pretty regularly. Adrien gives her a watery ‘thanks’ and a bone-crushing hug she’s _pretty_ _sure_ would legitimately hurt if she weren’t the Bee’s Holder. Even Nathaniel comes by and offers to show her a few progress pictures of her commission, to which she merely rolls her eyes and shoos him away, berating him for talking shop at a party. But the rest of the class barely spares a glance for her, if at all.

It, uh,  _ sucks. _ Even though she doesn’t feel this... _ unquenchable _ thirst for attention as strongly as she used to, being so thoroughly ignored makes her feel like she’s had ice water dunked on her; initially shocked, and progressively numb.

So maybe she ducks out of the loud, happy room. Maybe she decides to wander around the school, wishing her wine would make her at least a  _ little _ tipsy - it doesn’t, she’s been sneaking wine since she was eleven so her tolerance is higher than it should be - cursing the name of each and every single person in class for making this whole... _ process _ way more painful than it needs to be. It’s indulging in old, toxic-as-hell habits, she knows, but...well, why can’t they be a little more like Marinette, or Nathaniel? Why must they be so  _ difficult? _ She’s trying her goddamn  _ best, _ can’t they see? This whole fucking party was  _ her _ idea!

Pollen buzzes inside her bun, clearly aware of her mental spiral. Chloé sighs, downing the last of her wine, tossing the glass in the garbage bin. She sits under the staircase to the second floor - it’ll  _ probably  _ ruin her thousand-euro dress, but she doesn’t really give a shit at the moment. Tears fall down her rosy cheeks, fucking up her makeup, too, but she knew those were coming. 

She  _ isn’t _ trying her best, she knows. Fighting Hawk Moth’s Akumas as Queen Bee goes a long way, sure, but none of them know she’s saving their asses on the regular. Even if, come tomorrow, she stood up on her desk and summoned her powers in front of the whole class, it wouldn’t change the fact that she spent years upon  _ years  _ unleashing the worst of her venom and fury at the world on her undeserving classmates. There are extensive,  _ personalized _ offenses she has to try and make up for - and coming up with a nice party and an out-of-nowhere commission scarcely count as a start, no matter how much money she might’ve thrown at these ideas.

_ Fuck, _ being a good person is hard.

A pair of quietly giggling figures darting by her hiding place finally snap her out of it. She frowns - how  _ dare _ they interrupt her self-pitying sesh - and dabs at her tears, so as not to look like a  _ complete _ hag. She follows the trail of mumbles and easy laughter, all the way up to room thirty-three - the art room, which  _ should _ be closed, but whose aging professor is known to sometimes forget to. Chloé takes off her heels, so as not to spook her quarry - why she’s chasing them, she’s not  _ entirely  _ sure - and peeks through the window.

It’s Marinette and Adrien.

She can’t really hear their conversation - and even if she could, she probably wouldn’t want to - but the vibes behind it are pretty obvious. They’re two teens with very big crushes on each other, and even though they’ve kept their relationship on the down low since the start, it seems that tonight’s ‘fuck-you-Gabriel’ event has given them the valor to make things official. 

Which is to say, they’ve just kissed.

They’re blushing, excitable messes, and though it’s incredibly fast, the peck on the lips they’ve just shared looks to Chloé like their first. She shouldn’t have followed them, and she  _ certainly _ shouldn’t have stayed to see this. It’s a hideous breach of privacy, but Chloé couldn’t help it.

How many times has she imagined herself in Adrien’s place? Unconsciously at first, sure, but once she accepted the full weight of her crush on Marinette? Every other daydream had featured her stealing a kiss after one of their famously heated arguments. She’s got the details memorized - the cheap lip gloss, the faint smell of fresh bread, the few, faint freckles around her nose, the stray hairs from the two or three times she’d trip on the five minutes,  _ at most, _ that it took the clumsiest girl she’s ever known to get from home to school.

Jealousy is more a feeling she associates with seeing people have full, functional, happy families, but  _ goddamn _ if she doesn’t feel jealous of Adrien for a single, cursed moment.

It’s a good thing that it doesn’t linger, too, because she feels a radiating  _ wrongness _ at the base of her nape - the telltale song of corruption  _ Mlle. _ Bustier’s taught her to recognize. Chloé freezes, trying her best to empty her head of any negative thoughts. Sure enough, in the reflection ahead of her, and superimposed over the happy couple, flits an Akuma, dancing around her inactive Miraculous. Fast as lightning, she takes the comb off, Pollen getting unceremoniously sucked into it with a flash and a tiny yelp. She runs away, half because the Akuma is still interested in her, and half because Adrien and Marinette must’ve noticed the flash of golden light, almost eating  _ shit _ as she slides into the second floor women’s restroom. 

Chloé scowls as she sees her reflection - makeup’s fucked up, as predicted, but she’s also even more pale than usual, and the cute little bun she had her hair up in has come completely undone, the springy blonde curls she usually keeps a tight rein on dancing all around her face. She pulls them back, as best she can, into her usual ponytail, and places the Miraculous back on top. Pollen pops back into existence, clearly terrified for Chloé, but doesn’t say anything, merely standing at the ready, should her Holder call for the Bee’s powers.

A few minutes pass, and so does the intensity of her feelings. No one comes into the restroom, either, which tells her Marinette and Adrien probably didn’t feel the need to check for her. Taking a deep breath, she exits the restroom, and scans the whole school.

The Akuma’s still there.

Not where she was, not anymore, instead slowly making its way to the party - as cheery as it seemed, an absolute buffet for the Akuma, should things go south. Chloé scowls, and makes to follow, but just then, Marinette and Adrien exit the art room.

“ _ Chloé? _ ” -Adrien asks, confused. “What are you doing up here?”

“Had to powder my nose.” -she says, sarcastic.

“And why are you  _ barefoot? _ You haven’t even danced.” -Marinette notes, clearly sad for her.

She rolls her eyes - she doesn’t exactly have time for this. “ _ Fashion statement. _ Now, if you’ll excuse me…” -she says, trying to rush past them.

“ _ Wait… _ ” -Marinette says, frowning. She stares at the phone in her hand, and then at her feet, and something tells Chloé she’s not admiring her perfectly pedicured, sky blue toenails. “Did you...sneak a picture of us?”

Adrien looks somewhat betrayed at this - which has the approximate effect of seeing a sad puppy abandoned in the rain on anyone who locks gazes with him - and Marinette seems about ready to burst out in yells, so Chloé decides to put a stop to this drama train before it has a chance to leave the station. “This isn’t about you. There’s a  _ fucking Akuma _ in the school.”

Marinette pales, Adrien’s eyes widen, and they all collectively  _ freeze, _ as ominous footsteps fill the courtyard below. The trio try their best to hide behind the overlapping metal bars of the railing and staircase - they aren’t supposed to be having a  _ party, _ after all - and are left  _ utterly  _ speechless as the unmistakable figure of Gabriel Agreste walks towards the music, a hideous scowl on his face and a hard rhythm to his gait.

He  _ knows. _

Adrien seems the most confused of them all. “What is Father doing outside the house?” -he whispers, mostly to himself.

Chloé shakes her head. It’s a doozy, alright. Gabriel hasn’t stepped foot outside his house since Emilie’s disappearance - not for business deals, not for the launch of his seasonal fashion lines, and  _ certainly _ not for Adrien’s school events.

“He’s gonna kill us…” -Marinette mutters, horrified.

“He’s gonna  _ get us _ killed.” -Chloé hisses. “Hawk Moth will take him over the minute he walks inside.”

She sighs. Once again, she gets to break the  _ one rule _ Pollen gave her at the very start of all of this. “ **Pollen, Buzz On!** ” -she shouts, more resigned than anything else, and the intoxicating rush of power washes over her, turning her into Queen Bee.

Adrien’s jaw drops, and Marinette gives her an approving - if amused - smile. “You two get somewhere safe. Try to get Ladybug and Cat Noir’s attention... _ somehow. _ ” -she says.

Her best friend surprises her by hugging her, just as hard as before - though this time she can scarcely feel it, thanks to the transformation. “Be careful, Chloé.” -he whispers, and gives her a meaningful look, before taking Marinette’s hand and leading them towards the back of the school. Chloé takes a deep breath, and jumps onto the courtyard, rushing towards the party.

She can already hear Gabriel shouting from here. 

Partly, it’s because the music’s stopped. She doesn’t have to wonder why for too long - Nino runs away from the scene, crying, his turntable smoking and dripping with liquid. Chloé scowls - Gabriel’s not a very  _ physical  _ abuser, but she wouldn’t put it past him to dump a glass on Nino’s gear to force the music to stop. She shakes her head, more determined than ever to give him a piece of her mind.

Queen Bee bursts into a very tense scene; Gabriel’s predictably standing near the DJ booth, caught in a shouting match with  _ Mlle. _ Bustier, and the class is either frightened by the irate fashion designer, or glaring daggers at him. “Everybody  _ stop! _ ” -she yells, her voice overpowering even the grown adults’. Everyone turns to stare at her, with varying degrees of surprise. Caline pales, knowing what her presence means better than anyone else.

“And who would  _ you _ be?” -Gabriel sneers, staring down at her, his ever frigid gaze nearly paralyzing her.

“You should get out more.” -Chloé fires back. “I’m Queen Bee, one of Paris’ protectors. I need everyone to remain calm - there’s an Akuma in the school.”

Of course, some of the more  _ chickenshit _ members of her class start to panic - Rose clings to a grim-looking Juleka, and  Mylène squeaks, burying herself in Ivan’s ample chest. Chloé grits her teeth. “Akumas prey on  _ negative emotions, _ people. If you don’t wanna get turned, you need to think... _ positive. _ ” -she says, contorting her mouth into some sort of smile-like grimace, the best she can manage under the circumstances.

Gabriel scoffs. “What  _ nonsense _ is this? If this is the quality of education my son is expected to receive here, I  _ will not _ hesitate to have him homeschooled once more.”

Chloé is half-tempted to punch his ridiculously pointy chin, but she’s pretty sure she couldn’t be trusted  _ not _ to accidentally knock his head off,  _ Mortal Kombat- _ style. Instead, she walks up to him, her body vibrating with a muted rumbling, like that of a simmering beehive. “ _ Listen, _ you self-important  _ douchebag: _ I don’t know what  _ rock _ you’ve been living under for the past couple months, but there’s a  _ magical terrorist _ preying on people who’ve had a  _ bad day _ and turning them into  _ supervillains _ via  _ evil butterflies. _ I don’t  _ care _ how much sense it makes - it’s what everyone else’s had to live with, and since you’re here  _ now, _ you have to live with it, too. So  _ shut up, _ try to calm down, and hope to  _ God _ you don’t turn into an Akuma, because I  _ will _ beat the  _ shit  _ out of you.”

It’s hardly  _ hero-like _ behavior, this tirade of hers, but it does the trick. Everyone in the room shuts up, even Gabriel - who looks about ready to  _ sue, _ but settles for a sneer and a muted grumble.

She sighs. “Now, is there anyone else in school?”

A couple voices pipe up, but she holds up a palm, and points at Caline, whom she can trust to remember everyone. “Marinette, Adrien, and Chloé are missing.” -she says, after doing a quick headcount. Chloé remembers to ask for descriptions - and to his credit, Gabriel looks somewhat worried as he gives her Adrien’s generals.

“I’ve already sent them away.” -Chloé says, dismissively waving her hand. “Anyone else?”

Alya gasps, looking at the door. “Oh no.  _ Nino… _ ”

Chloé barely has enough time to turn and spread as large a curtain of honey between her and the door, as a  _ massive _ soundwave blows it - and most of the surrounding walls - to smithereens.

* * *

Chloé comes to, minutes later, a very grim scene. Bodies surround her, and she can’t quite tell if some of them are alive. Some of her classmates are ok - Nathaniel is trying to dig Alix out of some rubble, Ivan is wrapping a sleeve torn from his shirt around  Mylène’s bleeding forehead,  and Juleka softly cradles a  _ very  _ pale Rose in her arms - but others are…

Well. She just hopes Ladybug comes through with the Cure, and  _ fast. _

She shakes her head and rises, squaring her jaw and getting to work. She lifts the table-sized section of wall off of Alyx’s small frame with ease, and tosses it aside. Chloé still pales at the horror of her injuries, but she’s somewhat desensitized by now, her stomach only slightly churning at the sight. Healing honey pours from her palms, and the wounds begin to knit together, Alix’s face relaxing in her unconsciousness.

On to the next.

She goes through multiple cuts and abrasions, a couple concussions - which her honey can alleviate, good to know - and even a  _ nasty _ compound fracture, which almost gets to her. Most of the injuries are fairly minor, owing to her honey barrier slowing the debris and shrapnel down considerably, but she failed to protect everyone. Some people are missing - most notably,  _ Gabriel _ \- likely having run away in a panicked daze, and some have far greater wounds than she can cure. By the time she’s done treating her ‘patients’, some ten minutes later, she’s gently moved four... _ non-responsives _ to the back of the room.

Caline is one of them. 

Chloé shakes her head. Ladybug will save her, and the others. She’s done all she can for the survivors, so she heads out through the gaping hole in the wall, looking for any signs of Nino’s Akumatized self. There’s certainly some - more broken walls, bent railings, and glass shards everywhere - leading her to believe Ladybug and Cat Noir are already on the case. 

Much more strangely, however, she sees...soundwaves, somehow? They dance around, bouncing off of walls, each a distinct set of colors. She touches one, and gasps.

“ _ Oh God, please don’t! _ ” -she hears Alya’s panicked voice whimper, over and over, lower and more distant each time, as if echoing away from her. She touches it again, and the same thing happens, Alya saying the same words in her head - whatever Nino has turned into, it seems he has the nightmarish ability to turn people into aimless soundbites of their last words.

She shivers. She knew Hawk Moth was a very  _ messed up _ individual - must be, to do what he does - but this is a  _ whole  _ new level.

The streets outside the school are similarly filled with the... _ aftersounds _ of people vanished by the villain, making for a beautifully macabre scene. Chloé winces, a cacophony of terrified people hitting her as she moves through the soundwaves, so she resorts to flying above the rooftops. Paris below looks to her like one of those old computer wallpapers, colors randomly bouncing amongst the city blocks below. 

Finally, she reaches the fighting, but she might as well have stayed back at school. Ladybug and Cat Noir have him on the ropes, it seems. 

Nino’s Akumatized form - Feedback, from his mindless, villainous ranting - looks halfway between a missing  _ Daft Punk _ bandmate and a professional roller skater. He wears a purple and blue helmet featuring a visor and a similarly narrow screen over his mouth that shows a waveform that matches his words. He’s clad in a skin-tight black bodysuit that shows sound bars going up and down in tune with background music he seems to emit - an  _ edgier  _ version of his party mix - which would be kind of a fun look, if it weren’t so reminiscent of his victims’ fate.

He rambles on about needing to find Gabriel and teach him a lesson. Says he’s doing all of this for Adrien, but Chloé knows enough about Akumatizations by now to know that Hawk Moth will pull on whatever thread he can, no matter how tenuous, to fuel the transformation. Nino is Adrien’s friend, sure, but Chloé doubts he knows much about Adrien’s home life, as quiet about it as he usually is, let alone enough to want to teach Gabriel a lesson. If anything, he should want him to pay for a new DJ setup, or something to that effect.

At any rate, Feedback’s  _ schtick _ is his turntable, which has expanded to encompass  _ five _ records, and floats in front of him. The middle record is larger than the others, and presumably the actual Akumatized object. It launches disc-shaped energy projectiles, which must be how he vanishes people, as Ladybug and Cat Noir avoid them like the plague. The other, smaller discs do different things, like launching the massive soundwave from earlier, granting Feedback a speed boost, or blocking the heroes’ weapons.

Chloé mostly works on containment, making sure Feedback stays confined to the plaza they’re in, and protecting any stray civilians from his attacks. Her honey globs can intercept the thrown discs, rendering them harmless, but the powerful soundwave keeps her away, unable to do any real damage. To make matters worse, every time she globs him up, one of his records makes a powerful, bassy sound that expels the offending substance, even when crystallized.

At any rate, she’s enough of a distraction that Ladybug is able to conjure up her Lucky Charm - a red and black, polka-dotted boombox - which plays a recording of Gabriel’s voice, grabbing Feedback’s undivided attention and allowing Cat Noir to sneak in and disintegrate the whole console. Moments - and catchphrases - later, Nino stares up at them, utterly confused, and the day is saved with an explosion of magical ladybugs.

* * *

Chloé, once again the only one who didn’t need to transform back, is the one who gets to take Nino back and explain to him that he was Akumatized, and not to blame for what happened. She can’t hide how relieved she is to get to school and see everyone up and about, shaken but healthy. Even Marinette and Adrien come back, for some reason.

The only one missing is Gabriel.

She barely has a chance to frown before Nathalie comes in the room, holding an expensive-looking tablet featuring Gabriel’s haughty mug. Everyone looks about ready to give the man on the screen a piece of their mind, but he simply holds up a hand.

“It has come to my attention that this latest attack is, in some measure, my fault.” -Gabriel begins, sounding remorseful. “Gabriel Agreste being the one who provoked the situation leading to young  _ Monsieur _ Lahiffe’s unfortunate possession. However, I must make it  _ crystal clear _ that I have not exited the premises of the Agreste manor in a  _ very  _ long time.” -he says, clearly perturbed. “Tonight was no exception.”

“There seems to be an impostor of some kind. A  _ very _ good one.” -he continues, heedless of the shocked gasps and whispers. “Rest assured that the Agreste Foundation will reimburse the school and all victims present at the scene of the crime.” -he says, then gives Nino an uncharacteristically kind smile. “And you,  _ Monsieur _ Lahiffe, will receive a high quality DJ setup, to replace the one my doppelganger destroyed. No friend of my son’s, and especially not such a good one, should suffer such injustice.”

Nathalie then turns to Adrien, in a suspiciously rehearsed manner. “As for you, Adrien…I am  _ disappointed.  _ That you’d choose to lie to me, yes, but mostly, that I’ve made you think, in my absence and grief, that I can’t be trusted with something like this.” -he says, almost convincingly sad. “I hope you’ll forgive me, son.”

It’s kind of a  _ faux pas _ saying something like this in public, but the class buys the whole act, hook-line-and-sinker. Chloé, however, simply cannot. It doesn’t make any sense; Gabriel has  _ never _ been this understanding, or charitable. Even when Emilie was around, he was cold and calculating,  _ tolerating _ of others, at best. It’s too intense a change, too quickly.

So, while Adrien profusely thanks his father and the class for everything, Chloé slinks away, wondering: just  _ what _ is Gabriel playing at, here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your attention! Make sure to comment or message me if you have any questions about this story. Look me up on Twitter as Darthkvzn or Tumblr as darthkvznblogs if you'd like - and on Ko-fi, as Darthkvzn, if you like what I do and have a coffee's worth of money to spare.
> 
> So, who do you guys think is the impostor? I told a friend, IncognitoPhenomenon about their identity, and I got a legit, shocked gasp from him, so I hope you guys, gals, and enby pals are similarly surprised! Thank you for your support, and I'll see you next time!


	14. Vulnerability, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a few weeks of high highs and *very* low lows as Queen Bee, Chloé finds herself in the midst of a depressive episode. Thankfully, Adrien visits, bringing good advice, solid companionship...and an omelette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I'm so sorry this took me so dang long. I think you'll see why, though - there's some pretty rough and raw stuff in this one. Depression is an ugly thing, and it can rear its hideous head back up, over and over.
> 
> So, fair warning, Chloé's in a bad place in this one. Still, there's light at the end of the tunnel - in the form of one sunshine boy, and maybe an honest conversation with Sabrina in the not too distant future.

Chloé lies in her unkempt bed, staring at the fancy, single-bladed ceiling fan her father  _ insisted _ would complete the look of the suite - when, in truth, it’s just kinda mediocre at its job.

It’s been over a week, and she doesn’t feel any better. 

She’s missed three days of school, she hasn’t showered or bathed in at  _ least _ two days - didn’t even put anything on afterwards, the Miraculous included - and she hasn’t done much more in that time than toss around naked in bed, spiraling as she thinks, over and over, of everything that’s gone wrong for her lately. Between catching Adrien and Marinette kissing, failing to protect and seeing half her classmates wounded or  _ dead _ in the Akuma attack, and feeling like she’s the only one who  _ didn’t _ buy Gabriel’s extremely public change of heart, Chloé hasn’t felt this overwhelmed since Stoneheart nearly killed her.

Which of course, brings Sabrina to mind.

She blearily glances at her phone - plugged in, charging, and open on her last conversation with Sabrina - like she has every few minutes for the past couple days. Chloé’s made no attempts to get in touch with Sabrina since their falling out - too guilty, too unwilling to face  _ permanent _ rejection - but she’s gotten close now, at her lowest.

Her buzzer sounds, but she ignores it a couple times, too gloomy to bother. Eventually, the sound gets too annoying to avoid, so she lumbers over and answers the phone embedded into her wall.

“ _ What? _ ” -she hisses.

“Mademoiselle _ Bourgeois,  _ Monsieur  _ Agreste is here to see you. _ ” -Jean Baptiste, her old butler turned hotel manager, says over the intercom.

She blinks, suddenly  _ too _ awake, the hairs on the back of her neck rising in dread. “What the  _ fuck? _ Gabriel’s  _ here? _ ”

“ _ No, no. The  _ younger  _ Agreste, Mademoiselle. _ ”

Her shock wears off, albeit just a little. She glances at the clock - it’s early on a saturday, prime modelling shoot time, so it’s  _ extra  _ weird that Adrien’s decided to pay her a visit. “Oh. Well, let him in, but give me a minute.” -she says, glancing down at her unclothed form.

Chloé hangs up the phone, and grabs a discarded, crumpled up bathrobe, grimacing at the dismal state of her room - she hasn’t allowed the staff to come in for nearly a week, more or less since her funk took a turn for the worst, following the whole surprise party fiasco. Adrien won’t mind, of course, but she still finds it embarrassing - and she doesn’t even want to  _ think _ about what she must look like.

Adrien knocks on her door after a few moments. She opens it for him, trying and failing to muster a smile for her best friend.

“Hey Chloé.” -he says, taking off his sunglasses and a baseball cap, which immediately tells her that he’s in  _ incognito mode. _ Adrien brings up a big paper bag and a to-go cup of coffee. To his credit, he doesn’t outright balk at hers or the suite’s looks. “I brought breakfast.”

Chloé narrows her eyes. “The bribe is appreciated, but...what the hell are you doing here, Adrien?”

He shrugs. “Abusing the last dregs of Father’s newfound goodwill.” -he says, darkly amused. “Whatever he was on last week, it’s wearing off, so I figured I’d burn the last of it by getting out of a modelling gig and coming to see you.”

The blonde hums, stepping aside to let Adrien inside. “I  _ knew _ he was faking it.” -she mutters.

“I don’t know if  _ ‘faking’ _ is the right word here. It  _ did _ feel genuine for a couple days.” -Adrien muses. “More like he got tired of the new status quo, I think.”

Chloé shakes her head. “ _ Sure. _ So why come see me? I’d think you’d want to spend time with your new girlfriend.” -she says, unable to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

He winces. “Oh. That.” -he says. “I’m sorry, Chloé. I had no idea you felt that way about us - about  _ her. _ ” -he says.

She sits on her bed. “Yeah, well. You miss a few things when you don’t talk to someone for a few years.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Chloé.” -he looks at his feet. “Between Father’s rules and mom’s disappearance, I never found the time.”

The blonde groans. “ _ Fuck. _ It’s not your fault, Adrien, I’m sorry. I’m just...not doing too well right now.”

He nods, worriedly. “Yeah, I figured. Everyone else thinks you’re just doing your usual thing - apparently, you have a habit of ditching class whenever you feel like it.” -he says, somewhat amused. “But you haven’t missed a single day this year, I don’t think. Mlle. Bustier is really worried about you. So is Marinette.”

She tentatively grabs the coffee cup. “She told you everything, then?”

“Not everything. But enough to understand that you’d  _ probably  _ shut the door in my face if I tried to come in here with bread from her parents’ store, like I’d originally planned.” -he says, sheepish.

Chloé snorts, mildly amused. “She always  _ was _ a smart cookie.” -she says. “Well, now you know the truth, I guess.”

“Well, I’ve always  _ sorta  _ known.” -he says. “Everyone says I’m super oblivious, but I  _ do _ notice stuff. I just don’t like to make a big deal of everything, I guess.”

“So,  _ what, _ you’re telling me you’ve known I was a lesbian longer than I have?”

“Not in so many words, maybe.” -he allows. “But y’know. Bits and pieces over the years. Comments you’d make about girls that you never made about boys. Faces you’d make when people would talk about male celebrities. And from what Marinette’s told me, you stare a  _ lot, _ when you find a girl attractive.” -he teases.

She blushes. “Oh my  _ God, _ I’m gonna kill her.”

“Please don’t murder my girlfriend.” -he says, deadpan. “Besides, I think it’s cute.”

Chloé purses her lips. “So you’re okay with it?”

He frowns, like he couldn’t fathom the idea. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s perfectly normal in my book.” -he shrugs. “Mom was bi, cousin Felix is gay...I know some terrible people hate the thought, and some more are only just learning about it, but I was lucky enough to grow up knowing it was perfectly fine to love whomever you love.”

“Even if it’s someone  _ you _ love?” -Chloé asks, quietly.

Adrien puts a hand on her shoulder. “If that’s what’s eating you up, I have no problem with it, and I know Mari doesn’t, either. I’m just sorry I didn’t realize beforehand. I should’ve talked with you about it, at least.”

Chloé shakes her head. “You don’t owe me anything, and you don’t need anyone’s permission to date Marinette, least of all mine.” -she affirms. “I’m not gonna lie. It  _ sucks, _ feeling like this - like I might’ve had a chance and  _ wasted it, _ getting hung up on my own fears and insecurities. But I’m happy for you guys, really. You two deserve each other, and I mean that in the kindest, most sincere way I can.”

“Thanks.” -he says. “Besides, who could blame you? Have you  _ seen _ Marinette? She’s  _ so pretty, _ and  _ so kind. _ ”

She laughs a little. “And the way she always smells like fresh bread? And those  _ freckles? _ ”

“ _ So cute. _ ” -he agrees.

Chloé lies down in her bed, covering her face with her hands. “This is  _ weird. _ It’s weird, right?”

Adrien shrugs. “We live in a city constantly attacked by some crazy guy with magical powers while none of the rest of the world seems to care or even  _ notice. _ This is downright  _ mundane, _ Chloé.”

The blonde snorts. “Lucky me, I get to participate in  _ that insanity, _ too.”

“That’s what I thought this was about, till Marinette set me straight.” -Adrien admits.

“It’s... _ all of it. _ ” -Chloé sighs, once again staring up at the ceiling fan. “Watching you guys kiss, watching people die because I couldn’t save them, watching Ladybug and Cat Noir beat Feedback and barely being able to help, watching everyone buy Gabriel’s heel-face turn, everything that happened with Sabrina...I’ve done a  _ lot _ of watching helplessly, lately.”

“But you  _ did _ help them take Feedback down.” -he notes, then rubs the back of his head. “I mean, I watched video of it, and you kinda broke the stalemate.”

“Well it didn’t  _ feel that way, _ Adrien.” -she retorts. “I got there, and they had him on the ropes. None of my attacks were very effective. And that’s just it, isn’t it? I’m just  _ not very good _ at this shit, no matter how much I try.”

Adrien lies down next to her. “I don’t think you’re being very fair on yourself, Chloé. Sure. things haven’t gone as well as you’d like, but you’re  _ barely  _ starting out. There’s no manual for being a hero, no tips or tricks.” -he says, staring at the ceiling. “It’s a learning process for everyone, even Cat Noir and Ladybug. Heck, I’m sure even  _ Hawk Moth _ is figuring things out.”

“I don’t think that came out as comforting as you intended it, Adrikins.” -she says, amused. She then sighs. “You’re not the first one to tell me this, y’know. In fact, I’m pretty sure  _ everyone  _ I’ve talked to about being Queen Bee has given me  _ some  _ kind of advice to that effect. I don’t  _ get it; why  _ doesn’t it stick? I know it makes sense, I know I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, but every mistake I make feels like the  _ end of the world, _ both in and out of the suit. It makes me feel...useless.  _ Small. _ ”

“So focus on the small stuff.” -Adrien suggests. “The stuff you  _ can _ change on your own; no one can predict when the next Akuma will strike, and every Akuma is completely different, so you can’t exactly train for that. Neither of us can do anything about Father. And Marinette and I...well, you  _ know _ we love you, Chloé. I’m sorry about the shock at the party, and I wish things could be different, but you  _ know _ there’s no hard feelings between us.”

Chloé nods. “I know, I know.” -she says. “I just wish it were as easy as you make it sound.”

“It really isn’t.” -he admits. “And it won’t be quick, either. But you’re a lot stronger than you realize, and you have  _ us, _ the people who love you, ready to back you up whenever that strength isn’t enough.”

“I can’t ask you to drop everything just because I’m feeling a little down.” -she protests.

He purses his lips. “It’s not really my place to say, but...Chloé, I think this is a  _ little  _ more serious than ‘feeling a little down’. I’ve seen it before, too - in my mother, in the weeks before she went missing. She’d spend her days staring out the window, barely eating, never really talking. I’d try to cheer her up, but...well, she had a hard time even putting up a smile for me.” -he recalls, his eyes getting a bit misty in remembrance. “So no, you don’t have to ask, because I’m  _ offering. _ I couldn’t bear to see you that way, Chloé, not if I can do anything about it.”

Chloé threads a hand through her unkempt blonde locks. “...thanks, Adrien.” -she says, quietly. “I don’t know that I’m good yet, but...this helped, I think.”

He smiles, and  _ damn it, _ it’s contagious. “Now, come on. Omelette’s getting cold.”

* * *

Once the heavy stuff is out of the way - not solved, maybe not  _ ever, _ but perhaps not weighing as heavily on her shoulders - Adrien’s dam bursts, and he starts pelting her with questions on what it’s like being a real-life superhero as he picks up her room - he  _ insisted _ \- and she lazily takes a shower and more or less attempts to get back to her baseline look. It’s honestly really cute, how excited he is to learn, and it only makes sense - Adrien’s always wanted to be a superhero.

Well, a  _ shonen _ protagonist, but y’know. Same difference.

“Can you fly?”

“Uh... _ yeah _ . There’s  _ video _ of it, Adrien.”

“Oh. Right. How fast, though?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure.”

“How is that even  _ possible? _ ”

“Just haven’t pushed the limits on it yet, I guess.”

“...do you wanna find out?”

“...maybe some other day, Adrien.”

“...I’m  _ definitely _ holding you to that.”

Before long, they’re painting each other’s nails as Chloé recounts her misadventures as Queen Bee. It’s a bit strange, how little Adrien knows about Queen Bee’s exploits - it’s not like she’s anywhere  _ near _ the main duo’s popularity, but she’s made some headlines for sure - but Chloé figures that’s just Adrien being an  _ incredibly _ sheltered kid, even now.

“I can’t believe you were already Queen Bee by the time we started talking again.” -he notes, admiring his fingernails, painted black and yellow in homage to her superheroic persona. It’s kind of a  _ botch-job _ \- it’s been a  _ long _ time since she last painted anyone’s fingernails, hers included, usually paying someone to do so - but he happily grins at the finalized designs. “I don’t think I would’ve ever realized, if I hadn’t seen you transform.”

Chloé chuckles, patiently waiting for Adrien to finish painting her toenails a cute baby blue color. “Honestly, if it weren’t for the whole  _ glamour magic _ thing, I’m sure everyone would figure it out in a heartbeat. I’m not exactly  _ subtle. _ ”

He raises an eyebrow. “Glamour magic, huh? Sounds convenient.”

“Don’t ask me for a detailed explanation. It’s an  _ automatic _ sort of thing, like most of my powers.” -she warns. “But yeah, it makes it so people won’t associate me with Queen Bee unless I, like, shout to the skies that it’s me. Or y’know, transform in front of people...which I’ve done a  _ lot, _ actually. I’m no good at this  _ secret identity _ bullshit.”

“Well, extenuating circumstances and all that.” -Adrien shrugs. “I’m sure I’d have done the same in those situations.”

“Doubt it.” -she says. “I’m sure you’d make for a  _ much _ better superhero than I am.”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “Come on, Chlo. That’s unfair on  _ both _ of us.”

She tilts her head back and forth. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Hard habit to break.” -she says, chagrined. “You can’t blame me for wondering how on Earth  _ I’m _ the one to get superpowers when perfectly good people like you and Marinette remain powerless.”

He gives her a clipped little laugh. “Oh, I don’t know that I’d be a good option. Between my curfew and all the cameras at the manor, I probably couldn’t even leave the house for any superheroics.”

Chloé’s expression sours. “ _ God, _ I don’t know how you can even stand it, Adrien. I know my dad’s not  _ exactly  _ a model parent, but at least he’s never  _ stifled _ me like Gabriel does.”

“Father means well.” -he responds, nearly on auto. He laughs at her disbelief. “I know it’s hard to believe, but...I  _ know _ he cares, he just can’t show it in... _ normal _ ways, I guess. Without mom around, he doesn’t know how to deal with people. He won’t even talk with Nathalie sometimes, these days.”

Adrien leans back on the chair he’s sitting on. “He has good moments too, though. Sometimes he comes over and plays the piano with me. The other day, we watched one of mom’s movies together.” -he says, the ghost of a smile passing through his face. “He even asked me about school after the party! I don’t think he paid too much attention, but he  _ listened, _ at least.”

“But you said it yourself; he’s regressing.”

“He is.” -Adrien admits, quietly. “But I figure, if he managed a good week, maybe he can manage another soon. It’s not much, but it  _ is _ progress - the most he’s made since we lost mom.” -Adrien notes. He sighs, leaning forward again. “Maybe it  _ is  _ just wishful thinking. But...y’know, he’s still my dad; I could never abandon him. At the end of the day, all we have is each other.”

“Maybe.” -she grudgingly allows. “But you deserve  _ so much more, _ Adrien.”

Adrien laughs. “I don’t know about that. I don’t know if you’ve  _ heard, _ but I’m a  _ pretty privileged dude. _ ” -he says, pointing at the poster he jokingly signed for her, still hanging on one of her bedroom walls. “A few things could be better, sure, but I’ve got friends, family, the best girlfriend in the world...and now my best friend’s back in my life.” -he smirks. “All things considered, I’m pretty good.”

She gives him a sad smile. “ _ Cute. _ Still, though...I’ve got more money than  _ God, _ and look how you found me.” -she says, embarrassed. “Issues are still issues, even if most things around them are good.”

“True enough.” -he admits. “But we’ve established there are some things you can’t do much of anything about, so let’s focus on something you  _ can _ fix. Something small, like…” -he prompts.

“...like finally getting off my ass and apologizing to Sabrina for being a bitch?” -she says, bitterly.

Adrien snaps his fingers. “That’s the spirit!”

Chloé draws in a long, deep breath, and grabs her phone, still open on her final conversation with the redhead. It’s all messages from Sabrina, terrified about her abduction by Stoneheart - trying to reassure her that Ladybug was fighting her way to the Eiffel Tower, that she’d be saved soon, and relief at her rescue. 

Chloé may have been a  _ terrible _ friend to Sabrina, but...well, Sabrina always had her back. Even if she can’t fix things, she owes her this much.

The blonde opens the Miraculous Box, and Pollen springs to life, immediately diving towards her cheek. The Kwami hardly even notices Adrien, so happy to be back to Chloé’s side. “I’m  _ probably  _ gonna do something stupid.” -she warns the tiny goddess.

Pollen giggles. “I’m with you, my Queen.”

Chloé smiles, small but genuine. She glances at Adrien, who puts two thumbs up. She finds the little phone icon, presses it, and sighs again. “Welp. Here goes nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your attention! Make sure to comment or message me if you have any questions about this story. Look me up on Twitter as Darthkvzn or Tumblr as darthkvznblogs if you'd like - and on Ko-fi, as Darthkvzn, if you like what I do and have a coffee's worth of money to spare.
> 
> Until next time!


	15. Vulnerability, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloé finally faces the music - as in, goes to apologize, face to face, to Sabrina, for all the horrible things she inflicted on the redhead throughout the years. She half-expects Sabrina not to answer, but therapy and distance have left her with a very interesting outlook on their rather toxic relationship.
> 
> Unfortunately for Chloé, Roger Raincomprix might not be as forgiving...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey there! Surprise! I try not to write on the weekends - not that this is a job (yet!), but I like to keep weekends to rest and relaxation only - but I just needed to get this chapter done, so you'll get a rare saturday upload. I hope you enjoy!

The Raincomprix duo live in a fairly well off neighborhood on the west side of Paris, but it’s a recent development, following Roger’s appointment as Prefect of Police - they used to live in a... _ significantly _ less fancy part of the city, which meant Chloé never even  _ considered  _ visiting her before the move. As it stands, she’s only been to the new house  _ once, _ and only because her daddy thought it’d be a good idea to be seen by the media as close to their newly appointed  _ Préfet de police. _

It’s a cozy place - a far cry from her usual fare, to be sure, but also the kind of place she wouldn’t mind as a second, more private home. It strikes her as a kind of odd design, seeing as it doesn’t quite qualify as an apartment - too big for that, she thinks, like a duplex but in a single floor - but it’s also not the only living space in the building.

Chloé half expects Adrien to come with, but the boy’s not as oblivious as he might seem sometimes, instead staying behind, leaning on the limousine and chatting with the Gorilla, talking as excitedly with his hands -  _ huh, _ she didn’t know he could sign - as he usually does out loud.

Sabrina’s home is up on the second floor, so she slowly makes her way upstairs. Each step seems slower and slower, but she pushes through until she’s in front of her door. Her hand comes up to knock, but...she doesn’t.

Pollen stares up at her from the depths of her  _ Prada. _ Her tiny little hands clap a couple times for encouragement. Chloé sighs deeply, and raps her knuckles against the wooden door before she can think too hard on it again.

Chloé’s kind of counting on a few moments to mentally prepare herself, but the door swings open barely a couple seconds afterwards, and there she is; Sabrina looks entirely unchanged, except for her glasses, which are nowhere to be found. She doesn’t look all too surprised to see Chloé, either, which sets off all  _ kinds _ of alarm bells in her head.

“Um...hi.” -she says, her voice small.

“Hi, Chloé.” -Sabrina says, her tone more or less neutral. 

Chloé purses her lips, taking off her sunglasses. “Are you...busy right now?”

“I...guess that depends.” -she says, carefully. “What are you here for?”

“An apology.” -she says, then winces. “Like, from me to you.”

Sabrina snorts. “ _ This _ close to shutting the door on your face, honest.” -she says. It’s kind of incredible, how much the fear in her voice seems to have vanished. Chloé would be proud, but...making someone who’s supposed to be your friend afraid of saying the wrong thing really isn’t something to be proud of. “Well, it’s  _ really _ late, but...I accept it. Now, if that’s all…?”

Chloé scowls. “Look, I get it if you don’t want anything to do with me ever again, I _ do. _ I just...can’t we talk?”

The redhead purses her lips. “My therapist probably wouldn’t approve.”

The blonde’s stomach drops.  _ She _ caused this. “I-I see.” -she says, downcast.

Sabrina sighs. “Then again, she wouldn’t be too surprised, either. Come in, but...you can’t stay too long.  _ Papa _ will be home in a little while, and he’s...not as cool with you as I am.”

She steps aside, and Chloé walks in, a little unnerved - it’s not every day that she finds out the head of law enforcement in the city hates her guts.

* * *

To her credit, Sabrina looks  _ really _ good; Chloé’s come in right as she’s sweeping the house, so her clothes are all just comfortable, older stuff to work around in, but she looks less pale, her freckles have come out in force, and even her hair looks a little fuller, more lustrous. Sabrina’s never looked  _ bad, _ of course, but Chloé’s plenty familiar with some beautifying self-care, and it seems like Sabrina’s focused on it as part of her...treatment? Recovery?

Whatever it is, it seems to be working.

The redhead leads her to the small kitchen, which she’s in the middle of cleaning. The broom rests on the wall next to the fridge, atop a small mound of dust and the sort of general human detritus a house collects in, like, no time at all.

...not that Chloé’s  _ overly familiar _ with the pains of keeping an abode clean, but she’s heard the staff at the hotel complain a  _ lot _ over the years.

Sabrina sets a small glass of sparkling water on the table. Chloé manages not to wrinkle her nose at it - even without seeing the bottle, she can tell it’s a cheap brand, which might be the  _ lamest _ superpower to have - and clears her throat. “I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me.” -Chloé admits.

“Like I said, I  _ shouldn’t. _ My therapist was  _ very clear _ that talking with you again so soon could be ‘disruptive to my healing process’. But...I guess I’d rather clear things up with you.”

“What do you mean?”

She offers a small smirk. “Chloé, I’m not angry at you. Not anymore.” -she shrugs. “I  _ was, _ for a while. But I’ve realized a lot of things since then. Like the fact that we weren’t the friends we could’ve been. That, to be honest, we never were.”

That hits  _ hard, _ but it also rings true. Sabrina purses her lips. “I don’t blame you for the way you treated me. Not anymore, at least. I know it didn’t come out of nowhere - I know your mother leaving and your dad  _ drowning you in luxury _ made you who you are today. I know you’re terrified of rejection, of people  _ really _ getting to know you, and deciding you’re  _ not it.  _ And I get it; you  _ almost died, _ Chloé. If Ladybug hadn’t come in at the last second...well, I understand why you freaked out. I just wish we’d been the kind of friends who could get through something like that together. That you wouldn’t have had to be alone. That I wouldn’t have had my worries thrown back at my face.”

“ _ Fuck, _ Sabrina. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know.” -she says, offering an attempt at a kind smile. “I’ve heard you’ve... _ changed, _ lately. Like, for the better.” -she says, looking her over. “I haven’t exactly been  _ around _ to verify for myself, but I’m starting to believe it.”

“Oh  _ God.  _ Did I...make you ditch school?” -she asks, feeling dreadfully hollow.

Sabrina shakes her head. “No, no. That was my dad. And it wasn’t even because of you, promise - though he would  _ definitely _ bill you for the therapy if he had his way.” -she says, amused, then sighs. “No, my dad started noticing a... _ pattern, _ I guess you could say, in the way Akumas attack.”

Chloé frowns, her sense of duty pushing aside her increasingly aching heart. “What? Like what?”

The redhead raises an eyebrow at her sudden interest. “Well, I don’t think I’m supposed to tell anyone but...apparently, a  _ really  _ high percentage of Akumatizations have happened in a  _ suspiciously _ small radius around  _ François Dupont. _ ” -she says, her tone conspiratory. “Almost like Hawk Moth has some kind of interest in the school.”

Sabrina shrugs. “I dunno, maybe he lives nearby.”

It’s  _ so nonchalant, _ the way she says it, that Chloé almost calls her out - this is information her and Ladybug and Cat Noir could’ve  _ used, _ could’ve  _ planned around _ \- but she doesn’t, because it’s fairly normal; to the average Parisian, discussing Hawk Moth has become less of a fearful whisper and more of a casual conversation topic. The city, plain and simple, has come to trust - and perhaps more worryingly,  _ depend _ \- on their heroes to save the day, even as the attacks intensify in frequency and destructiveness.

Chloé thinks there’s something to be said about how  _ fucked up _ it is that a couple million people are more or less  _ fine _ with allowing a trio of fifteen year-olds to shoulder that burden. To her knowledge, the police haven’t even reached out to Ladybug, let alone Cat Noir or her.

The blonde shakes her head. “So...you  _ won’t _ be coming back to school?”

Sabrina winces. “I...don’t know. I’m fine with going, I think, but...well, having some time to myself has let me realize that there really isn’t anything for me to return to.” -she says. “Don’t get me wrong, Chloé; I’m really glad you’re working on yourself, and I hope the others realize how  _ huge  _ of a step this is for you. But me? I don’t have friends. I don’t even have any  _ haters. _ I doubt anyone at school has even  _ mentioned _ my name. Nobody would miss me.”

“ _ Jesus, _ Sabrina, don’t even  _ say _ that.” -she gasps.  _ ‘I’d miss you’ _ goes unsaid.

“Chloé, it’s ok.” -she reassures her. “It’s not their fault, necessarily. A little bit of it is  _ you  _ \- who’d  _ ever  _ notice me when all I was was your shadow? - but mostly...I just haven’t ever stood up for myself. I never reached out and tried to make other friends. I never tried to be anything other than your...what’s the word? ‘Psychophant’?”

“Sycophant.” -Chloé hollowly corrects.

Sabrina nods. “Chloé, I know you weren’t exactly in the headspace to notice, so I get it if you think I’m exaggerating, but  _ literally  _ the  _ only time _ people talked to me about something that wasn’t related to you was when  _ maman  _ died.”

Chloé’s mouth opens and closes, trying to refute Sabrina’s arguments, but once again, it’s the harsh, unyielding truth; people came to Sabrina, sure, but it was always because they didn’t want to talk to Chloé directly - too intimidated, trying to avoid an argument, trying to  _ provoke _ an argument - at least that she can remember. Maybe Sabrina  _ is _ exaggerating...but if she is, it isn’t by much.

The blonde started crying somewhere in the conversation without noticing. There’s no sense in denying herself the tears - she doesn’t care that she’s showing weakness, not anymore, and  _ certainly _ not with Sabrina - but she  _ does _ wish she knew what to say. “I fucked it all up, didn’t I?” -she asks, rhetorical. “Like I  _ always _ do.”

“A fair bit, sure.” -Sabrina shrugs. “But Chloé, you don’t get to take my own mistakes from me. I appreciate the apology, I do, but I’d already forgiven you. As far as I’m concerned, we’re back to square one.” -she says, then looks towards the small window above the sink. “I don’t know if we’ll be friends again someday. I’d rather figure myself out first. But even if we aren’t, you shouldn’t blame yourself, not anymore. Sometimes, people grow apart, and that’s okay.”

Chloé gives her a watery chuckle. “When did you go and get so emotionally intelligent?”

Sabrina laughs. “Paris in the time of Hawk Moth, what can I say?”

The redhead’s phone pings, and she glances at it. Sabrina frowns, reading the notification. “Oh crap.  _ Papa’s _ on his way back.” -she says, then stares off to the side. “But...he always lets me know when he’s coming…”

“I guess I should go, then.” -Chloé mutters.

Sabrina pales as he stares at the tracking app following her father’s path home. She slowly turns it to show Chloé - the dot marked  _ ‘Papa’ _ is fairly jittery, like any cheap GPS, but it couldn’t  _ possibly  _ be as inaccurate as it seems to be, as it seemingly goes  _ through buildings, _ in a straight line towards them.

“What the  _ hell? _ ” -Chloé demands.

Just then, both their phones chime in unison, the dreaded Amber Alert-like tone of the brand new Akuma Alerts app filling the kitchen. Sabrina covers her mouth. “ _ My God... _ you don’t think…?”

Chloé can’t even try to be reassuring, as the building shakes, as if struck by an earthquake. Instinctively, Chloé rises and grabs Sabrina, yanking her towards the pantry and shutting the door as tightly as she can. It’s an uncomfortably tight fit - she’s suddenly very glad she’s never been attracted to Sabrina - but it’s exactly the right call, as Sabrina’s front door  _ bursts open, _ along with the whole damn frame and most of the wall around it. Dust and debris fill the room, and Chloé clamps down her hand on Sabrina’s mouth, keeping her from shrieking in fear.

It’s only two pinpricks of light, at first, about eight feet in the air - one blue, one red - glowing through the smoke. The hairs on the back of Chloé’s neck raise, as she realizes they’re  _ eyes  _ \- the eyes of a very tall, very  _ heavy _ humanoid creature. It clambers forward, slowly,  _ methodically, _ whirring servos and hydraulics betraying the robotic nature of what they know by now is the Akuma. Once close enough to them, Chloé can make out all the terrifying details - it’s some kind of android, roughly ten feet in height, covered in a blue, metal exoskeleton, and looking about ready to throw down with the Hulk himself. There’s no skin that she can see, only metal and carbon fiber - even the ‘face’ is dominated by a vented, Vader-like mouthpiece and a black visor through which the eyes shine, slowly scanning the room.

It’d be  _ cool, _ if it weren’t the most  _ terrifying thing she’s ever seen. _

“ _ Chloé Bourgeois. _ ” -the robot rumbles, monotone. “ _ You are wanted for inflicting harm upon Sabrina Raincomprix. Surrender willingly, and justice will be swift. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your attention! Make sure to comment or message me if you have any questions about this story. Look me up on Twitter as Darthkvzn or Tumblr as darthkvznblogs if you'd like - and on Ko-fi, as Darthkvzn, if you like what I do and have a buck to spare.
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> PS: Sorry for the cliffhanger! Again!


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